You Were Only Waiting
by newyorknewyork
Summary: While working another mundane day at the DX, Steve unexpectedly meets a girl named Evie Davis. A girl who actually doesn't prefer Soda to him. A girl who might be just right. But having a girl like Evie might just be a little harder than Steve thought.
1. Chapter 1

DISCLAIMER: I do not own The Outsiders or the characters in the book. It all belongs to the wonderful S.E. Hinton who created such a compelling universe. I also do not own Blackbird by The Beatles, from which I got my title.

**A/N: Title may change. This is my first romance so if it starts to sound mechanical or just off, feel free to tell me so I can try and improve. But please do not take "romance" to mean "porn". If that's what you're looking for then don't bother. (Not that I want to deter readers, I'm just warning you.) Also, this fic will only have canon pairings; I think the girls Susie Hinton put in her novel have so much room for character development there's no point really in creating an OFC and inevitably Mary-Sueing her. Some people can pull that off but I'm probably not one of them. **

**-**_**Takes breath**_**- Okay now on with the story….**

He rolled his eyes. What cruel person would force _him_, Steve, car-guru, to work the cash register while Mike, who wouldn't know half-moon slip joint pliers from a back-flap hinge if you twisted his nuts with it gets to repair the candy-apple red 1955 Chevy Bel-Air? Oh, right—John, the boss. But Steve told himself not to worry; soon enough John would become aware of his amazing skills with an automotive and he would never again be forced to stand around inside selling bags of chips to whining kids. After all, he'd only been at the DX a week. Perhaps he would come in on a day off and fix that car himself with god-like craftsmanship, purely out of the goodness of his heart, and John would appoint him Mechanic Numero Uno. Yeah, now that's a good idea, Steve thought.

"Hey Steve," Soda said walking inside the store, the little bell ringing as the door opened and closed.

"Heya, Soda. How goes the gas-pumping?"

"Great! I got about five girl's numbers, I think." He pulled a few scraps of paper out of his pocket. "Oh, six actually."

"Well, lucky you," Steve replied sarcastically and sighed.

Soda walked to the back and came back with two bottles of Coke. He handed Steve one.

"What'samatter? Cashier life ain't for you?"

"No, Soda, I'm absolutely thrilled to be here. How badly is Mike murdering that car?" Steve opened his Coke and took a sip.

Soda laughed. "Aw, don't worry, Stevie, you'll be working on the cars within a week."

"I better be. If not I might just opt to shoot myself in the foot."

Soda laughed again and took a seat up on the counter, taking a sip from his own drink. "Hey, I'm takin' that Sandy McCulloch girl to the movies this Friday, you wanna find a date and double? If she really wants to watch the movie I'm gonna be bored outta my mind."

Steve rolled his eyes again. "Don't think I didn't notice that ever-so-clever subject change. But to answer your question, I don't think so. I'm not the one who snagged six different girls numbers today, ya know."

Before Soda could answer the bell on the door jingled again and a dark-haired girl wearing a halter top and a skirt that came well above her knees walked in, smacking her gum loudly. Soda hopped off the counter as she walked up to it and slammed down her purse.

"Gimme a pack of Camels, would ya?" she demanded more than asked.

Steve studied her for a moment. Too much dark-blue eye shadow, pseudo-pink cheeks, lips the color of that car he so badly desired to be working on, thick eyeliner and mascara that made her eyelashes touch the tips of her brows. He wondered what she really looked like.

"You gonna get 'em for me or do I need come back there myself?" she asked, digging through her bag.

Steve took out a box of cigarettes and took one pack out. He handed it to her, and she shelled out the change. She raised a light-brown eyebrow at him before placing a cigarette between her lips and walking out.

Soda clapped his friend on the shoulder when the door closed. "You can take her, man!"

Steve turned to look at him indignantly. "She was certainly charming."

"And pretty too! Maybe a little heavy on the make-up, but what girl isn't?" Soda grinned.

Steve rolled his eyes for a third time. "I ain't askin' that girl out. Forget it."

Soda sighed melodramatically. "Fine, spend the rest of your life having sex with only yourself."

"Shut up, Soda, before I slug you."

Soda couldn't help but smile again. "Aw, I'm just churnin' your butter, you know that."

A honking car could be heard outside. Soda walked over and looked out the glass door. "Whoops, apparently I'm needed. Just think about comin', okay?"

Steve nodded simply to shut him up and Soda galloped outside to perform his gas-pumping and oil-checking duties. Steve sighed and took another gulp of his Coke. He wasn't going to ask out that girl, but there was something about her. There certainly was….

**Sorry it's short, but I hope you enjoyed this. Please review and tell me what you think; constructive criticism is appreciated. **


	2. Chapter 2

DISCLAIMER: I've said it before and I'll say it again: I do not own The Outsiders and the character associated with it. I am merely a fan. A fan who writes fiction. Fan fiction. Whee.

**Well, on with the story …**

Driving to school that Tuesday, Steve felt an overwhelming feeling of dread. Tuesdays, in his opinion, might as well crawl into a corner and die. What's the point of them anyway? Monday is the first day of the school week, Wednesday means the week is half over, Thursday is the day before Friday, and Friday is, well, Friday. Tuesday is just a big ugly blot smeared all over Steve's week. To top it off, it means another long, uneventful day at work watching someone else work on _his _1955 Chevy Bel-Air. The thought sickened him. But maybe it's just the immense tiredness talking.

He reached his destination, the Will Rogers High School parking lot, collected his things and went in through the South entrance. On his way down the hall he spotted Two-Bit, leaned against a locker, seeming to be telling Johnny some kind of wild story. He walked over to greet them.

"Hey Two-Bit, hey Johnny. What's happenin'?"

"Heya Steve, listen, I was just tellin' Johnnycake here about how I almost died last night when the damn brakes went out in my car again. Want me to retell it?" Two-Bit said with a hint of laughter.

"Yeah, apparently it was a real trip; an _elk_ ran into the middle of the road so he swerved and nearly hit a Cub Scout," Johnny added.

"Well look at you, Mr. Cade, gettin' all sarcastic on me! And it was half a dozen girl scouts, by the way."

Steve chuckled and smirked. "Two-Bit when are you gonna get enough sense in that head of yours to just let me fix the damn car?"

"Oh, she's fine, she don't need no fixin'. She just gets all in a huff when I've got a girl with me. Gets jealous, you know how Plymouths are," he replied with such passive sarcasm you might almost think he was serious.

"Oh yeah, it's those damn '57 models," Steve replied, "The jealousy rages."

The warning bell rang throughout the school.

"You goin' to English, Two-Bit?"

"Well now I just can't believe you asked me that, Steve. Of course I'm gonna go get me an edjamucation."

Steve laughed.

"Your first class near here, Johnny?" Two-Bit asked.

Johnny nodded. "Just down the hall."

"All right, if any Socs mess with ya just lemme know and I'll mess with them." Two-Bit grinned happily and both he and Steve left up the nearest stairs to the English hall.

As they walked, the pair couldn't help but notice the short-skirted, long-legged girl reaching up into her locker.

"Nice knees she's got there, huh, Stevie?" Two-Bit chuckled at his joke.

Steve laughed with him and whistled, loud enough for the girl to hear. He wanted her to; he had to get his kicks somehow.

She looked toward the two of them and walked with determination in their direction, her blonde hair swaying as she went. They made no effort to avoid her.

"I could slap you for that," she said.

"For what, darlin'? Lovin' you?" Two-Bit drawled like an Old Western cowboy.

"Well aren't you just a gentleman." She rolled her eyes.

The late bell rang.

"These two ol' greasers buggin' you, Kathy?" They hadn't noticed another girl walk up behind her. A brown-haired girl with blue eye shadow and candy-apple red lipstick.

"Oh it's just these two buffoons Two-Bit Mathews and Steve Randle."

"Two-Bit and Steve, huh?" She raised an eyebrow in Steve's direction for a moment, just as she had the day before. "Well you'll be careful not to mess with Kathy here, she'll take you through the ringer."

"I'll keep that in mind, honey." Two-Bit grinned slyly.

Steve mentally kicked himself for not beating Two-Bit to the retort. He couldn't help it; he got distracted. He kicked himself again for letting that girl be the distracter.

"Come on, Evie, we're late." Kathy said, tugging on her friend's arm.

Evie looked at Steve and Two-Bit coolly for a moment longer before going along down the opposite hall. Steve nearly sighed watching her glide to her classroom. He made a mental note to really kick himself later. He took out a comb from his back pocket and ran it through his hair to shake off the feeling. He may have liked her, Steve told himself, but he was not going to ask her for a date. Putting up with a girl like that would grow tiresome and get damn annoying. Though he has always enjoyed a challenge ….

"I dig her," Two-Bit said. "Kathy. She's got spunk."

Steve nodded. "Come on, Syme's gonna try and give us detention if we don't get goin'."

They started back down the hall and Steve asked Two-Bit to retell his story. But when Two-Bit went off in his spiel Steve didn't listen. He had something else on his mind, and not that '55 Chevy.

**Another short chapter. Sorry, I'll try to make them longer as the story progresses. But I hope you enjoyed this one anyway.**


	3. Chapter 3

DISCLAIMER: I do not own The Outsiders. Mike, John, and Sully are mine though, as they are not in the book. Jeez … I just realized … Mike and Sully? I should stop watching Disney. Anyway, on with the story…

Steve had a shift at the DX immediately proceeding the school day, so when the bell rang at three-fifteen he headed straight for work without stopping at home. He was actually glad to be going to work, surprisingly. He needed something to focus on, even if it _was _just trying to pawn off car parts at the cash register.

He arrived at the DX, waved to Soda, glared at Mike, and went to the back room to change into his blue-collared work shirt.

As he emerged from the room, ready to perform his register-operating duties, John, the boss, stopped him.

"Randle—do me a favor, will ya? Go replace the carburetor in that Oldsmobile in the garage, will ya? The parts are already in there, you're set. Sully here," he pointed at the burly, mustached man standing beside him, "will take over the register and floor management."

Steve could have jumped up and clicked his heels together like Fred Flintstone, but he played it cool, like he always does.

"All right, I'll get on that right away, sir."

"Good boy."

Steve turned around and walked outside, a big grin now formed on his face. He went straight for the garage; changing out a carburetor was an easy job, but it was a job that involved fixing cars and not fixing the vending machine when it stole a kid's pocket change.

He walked into the garage, grinned at Mike, and got to work on his assigned vehicle. He intended to have his time alone with Miss '55 Bel-Air, but for now this hunk of junk on his side of the garage would suffice.

Though hardly when he had his tools in hand, Soda bounded into the garage to congratulate his friend.

"Steven Randle, I told ya you'd be in here sooner than you thought."

Steve smirked. "Yeah, it's my majestic ways with auto parts that got me here so quickly."

Soda smiled. "Cocky, huh? Well hey, you comin' with me to the movies on Friday? You asked that girl, right?"

Steve rolled his eyes. "No, Soda. I've never even seen that girl before yesterday. It'd be a little creepy if I was askin' her out to the movies before I've even met her. Besides, why go to a movie when there's a baseball game at school to attend?"

Soda's brown eyes lit up. "You're a genius, Steve! Now I've found my way out of the movies. 'Sandy, we can't go to the movie tonight, Rogers is playin' Washington. We can't miss that, can we?' Thanks, man."

"Thrilled to be of service."

Steve lifted the hood of the car, figuring Soda had forgotten about Evie. He pondered a moment; he liked that name. Evie. He wondered what it was short for.

"Now back to this girl of yours," Soda began again.

Steve sighed; Soda was damn persistent.

"What do you mean you've never met her before? She came and bought cigarettes from you! Haven't you seen her at school? Hell, _I've _seen her at school, and I don't go to school!"

"I saw her today, with Kathy," Steve told him.

"You did? Well there's a sign from God if I've ever seen one. You had her there at school and didn't ask her out? What are ya, chicken? Too embarrassed?"

Steve looked at Soda with a mix of disgust, indignation, and toughness.

"I don't get chicken _or_ embarrassed, you fairy."

Soda laughed. "Yeah, I know. So why don't you ask her out? I mean, if anything she might be good for a bull session, huh?"

Steve wanted to tell him that he wouldn't be shooting the bull about this particular girl, but that'd be giving up a little too much. He sighed.

"I'll see about askin' her out, all right? Jesus, you can be damn annoying, ya know that?"

"Yes, I do. But it's only for your benefit, buddy. Now get to work, you're wastin' daylight."

He grinned and walked out of the garage; Steve shook his head and got to work on his Oldsmobile.

**So there's the end of that chapter. I'll try to start updating quicker, I promise. I've just been rather busy. But I hope this was enjoyable; please leave reviews, constructive criticisms, etc.! **


	4. Chapter 4

DISCLAIMER: I do not own The Outsiders. Most likely never will either, so don't get your hopes up.

* * *

Walking into school that next day, Steve did not scope out Two-Bit and Johnny like he usually did; he had more important things to do than hear about Two-Bit's latest fiasco with the Tulsa Police Department, or the new blonde he'd picked up at The Dingo. He made a bee line to the first set of stairs he found and hurried up to the next floor where he knew Evie would be. The day previous she and Kathy had walked down the math hallway, he remembered. 

Despite the crowds in the hall he saw her right away. She leaned against the lockers talking to Kathy. Highly engaged in conversation. She giggled loudly, and Kathy's laughter followed. Steve wondered what they were talking about. Perhaps about what a stud he was, and the thought of him made them so flustered they had to giggle. Possible? Yes. Plausible? Probably not. Damn. Steve strolled over nonchalantly to the water fountain nearest the lockers. He leaned forward and took a long drink of the disgusting school-water.

He had to make a plan in the time it took to take a drink. There were, it seemed, two things he could do in this situation: Wait for the bell to ring and then "bump" into her in the hall, or push Kathy into a locker so he could get Evie alone. He liked the latter. He waited a bit, mentally preparing himself, and once he was finally ready he—

"You must be real thirsty," Evie interrupted Steve's gaining confidence. He didn't have to look up. He knew it was her.

He did look up, though, and saw both she and Kathy staring down at him. He straightened up so he again was taller.

"It's pretty hot out," he replied. "Ya know, April. Spring. Heat."

"Oh yeah," she said, nodding her head, "the high temperature always seems to peak at eight in the morning."

This girl was good. And for some reason Steve had a hard time coming up with his own sarcastic remarks when looking at her.

"Well," he finally said, "it's pretty warm _this_ morning."

Steve wanted to kick his own ass right then and there, but he didn't want to sound _and _look like an idiot in front of Evie.

Evie lightly chuckled. "I guess it is." She turned to her friend. "Let's go, Kathy."

They walked down the math hall together. Steve fought back the urge to slam his head into a locker.

XXX

Steve could not concentrate on anything the rest of the day. Not on Julius Caesar, not on Algebra, not the Trail of Tears, or Two-Bit's jokes, and not even on his 1955 Chevy. He'd made a fool of himself that morning; how could he think about anything else? He needed to redeem himself. He made a decision—no more beating around the bush. He was acting like a blasted pansy. Evie's only a girl, right? Big freakin' deal.

Steve told himself this, but he knew it was bullshit.

XXX

Only after half a day of brooding over his embarrassment was Steve pulled from his daze.

"Steve, what the hell's a matter with you?" Two-Bit asked as they and Johnny walked across the parking lot to Two-Bit's car during lunch. "You're actin' spacey today."

Steve sighed roughly. This was pissing him off.

"You know where that Evie chick is?" he asked.

"Evie? I dunno, man. I saw Kathy go into the cafeteria. Man, she is a _nice _girl, isn't she?" Two-Bit answered. "A _nice _girl with _nice _legs and _nice_ … well, everything else."

"Yeah, she's nice, thanks, Two-Bit. I'll see y'all later."

"Where ya goin'?"

Two-Bit's question was left unanswered. Steve was halfway back to the school, on his way to the cafeteria.

XXX

Steve entered the cafeteria for about the first time in two years. The last time he could remember ever eating there was during sophomore year, and it was made pretty obvious that he wasn't welcome. The cafeteria was unofficial Soc territory. The only greasers that ever ate in there were girls who were friends with middle-class kids.

But this gave Steve an advantage. Not only did Evie and Kathy stick out like sore thumbs, but their laughter could be heard halfway across the room. They were very happy people, apparently.

He started across the cafeteria, not even pausing when an anonymous Soc yelled, "Greaser!" and a few more real funny remarks. He went straight to the table where Evie sat and leaned in between her and another girl.

"Can I talk to you?" he asked.

She moved her gaze to meet his, then back to her friends', and then back to his. "Sure." She stood and followed Steve to an emptier table.

"What do you wanna talk about?" she asked.

"Uh, I was wonderin' actually if you'd like to go to Jays with me after school for a Coke or somethin'."

"A Coke at Jays? Well you go all out, don't ya?" She chuckled. "I think I'm gonna be busy after school. I have to wash my hair."

Steve was perplexed. Wash her hair? What the hell does that mean? She must've been playing hard to get.

"Wash your hair, I guess that's important. Maybe another time then. There's a ball game on Friday, my buddy Soda's takin' a girl from E.C. and he wants to double."

"East Central? What girl?"

"Sandy McSomething, I'm not sure."

"Sandy McCulloch?"

"Yeah, that's her. You know her?"

"Yeah, I know her. We went to elementary and junior high together. Haven't seen her in a while."

"Well, you wanna go with me?"

Evie looked at him for a moment, studying him, it seemed. "I could do that."

Steve didn't smile in an effort to gain back some of the cool he'd lost that morning. He didn't want to seem excited.

"All right then, I'll call ya."

She nodded and walked back to her table, her hair bouncing with each step. She'd done something different with it that day. Curled it, perhaps. He walked back outside to the lot with a giddy sort of feeling in his stomach. Met her two days ago and already he was taking her to a ball game. The future looked promising.

Steve found Two-Bit and Johnny sitting on the hood of Two-Bit's car drinking Cokes. They'd gone to the DX without him.

"Where ya been, Steve?" Johnny asked.

"Gettin' a date, Johnny. The women of Will Rogers High cannot resist me," he answered with a grin.

"Nice one, man," Two-Bit answered. "You get her number?"

For a second time that day Steve felt like kicking his own ass all the way to Durant and back.

"Shit," he said.

* * *

**Did this seem rushed? Sorry if it did! Wow, I'm terrible ... I update, what, every two weeks? I apologize. I plan on getting a little speedier with my updating soon. With the holidays coming up I'll have time to go on a major writing binge. Hopefully that shall mean more updates.**


	5. Chapter 5

DISCLAIMER: I don't own The Outsiders, or any of S.E. Hinton's characters within the story. But I'm figuring you already knew that.

**

* * *

**

"It's weird she was only a freshman last year. That's like junior high. That's like … your brother. She's not _that _young."

Steve sat in the Curtis living room with Sodapop looking through Ponyboy's 1965 Yearbook.

"Well Pony skipped a grade, remember? He's younger-lookin'. Besides, you were only a sophomore last year. That's pretty young."

"But not _that _young."

It was necessary to find Evie's picture in the old Hamilton Jr. High Yearbook after Steve inadvertently forgot to get her number. It was too late to ask her now.

"Here," Soda said, pointing to her picture. "Her last name is Davis. Evelyn Davis. That's weird. She doesn't look like an Evelyn."

Steve pulled out the phone book. "Yeah, that's probably why she's called Evie, dumbass."

"Evie Dumbass? Well Steve, don't you think that's kind of a rude thing to call your girlfriend?" Soda laughed and playful punched Steve in the arm.

"You're a real card, Soda," Steve replied, laughing lightly with him. "And she's not my girlfriend."

"Yet."

Steve rolled his eyes and flipped open the phone book. Tulsa was too big, the book too thick. There were probably dozens of Davises in the entire city. How did Soda manage to keep up with so many girls' numbers? Oh, that's right—by not calling over half of them. Talk about taking things for granted.

He found the Ds and skimmed down the page until he found Davis. They took up over half a column.

"Well damn, how do we figure out which one is Evie's?" Soda asked

"Look at the addresses. Anything past 51st street obviously isn't her."

After a bit of arguing they ended up narrowing it down to three names: Mr. and Mrs. Robert Davis, Mr. and Mrs. George Davis, and John Davis. Steve wrote the names and phone numbers down a piece of paper.

"Ya think she sounds more like the daughter of Robert or George?" Steve asked. "Probably not John."

"I dunno. You'll have to call and see."

Like hell he'd be doing that. Hadn't he embarrassed himself enough over the past couple days? Ringing up random people in search of a girl would add fuel to the fire.

"Dammit," Steve said, standing up and walking to the telephone. He shook his head and dialed the number for Mr. and Mrs. Robert Davis.

It rang. And it rang. And it rang again. One more time.

"Hello?" The voice sounded like it was coming from a dying old man with emphysema.

"Um … is, uh, Evie there?"

"Who? I don't know any Evie. Who are you?"

"Uh, sorry, wrong number." Steve hung up. He had never been a fan of unnecessary awkwardness.

"Not her, huh?"

"Nope," he sighed. "George Davis next."

He dialed the number and listened to the ring.

"Davis residence, Janet speaking." The woman's voice was a little too sugary-sweet.

He stifled an annoyed sigh. "Yeah, is Evie there?"

"No, I'm sorry, son, I think you have the wrong number."

Steve hung up without apologizing. "Well goddamn, neither of those is her."

"Call the other guy. Joe or whatever—call him," Soda said tiredly, resting his feet up on the table.

"He doesn't have a wife. Wouldn't she have a mother?"

Soda shrugged.

"Whatever," Steve muttered, and dialed the number.

It was answered after just one ring. "Hello?"

Steve almost grinned. "Evie?"

"Yes, who's this?"

"Steve. Steve Randle. I was just, uh, makin' sure I had the right number. I guess I do."

"I guess you do, Steve Randle."

"Yeah. So, I'll, uh, see you at school then."

"You probably will."

"I will. All right, so I'll call ya on Friday. Or do you think you'll have to wash your hair then, too?"

She giggled lightly. "No, I don't suppose I'll have to wash my hair that day."

"Then I'll call you."

"You'll call me then."

"Right. Talk to you later."

"Bye-bye."

He hung up. Jeez, talk about an uncomfortable thirty seconds.

"You sure do act like a goof when you talk to a girl you like," Soda teased.

"Shut up, Sodapop. Best buddy or not, I ain't afraid to knock your teeth in, got it?" Steve returned to his seat next to Soda.

Soda hooked his arm around Steve's neck. "Aw, am I really your best buddy?" He wiped away an imaginary tear.

"I warned you, man …" He reared back his fist.

"Shit," Soda said, dodging the punch and hurrying into the kitchen.

Steve followed in close proximity, his left hook ready to swing. "I warned you!"

XXX

As he drove home, Steve could feel the bruise forming on his cheekbone. He laughed. For a smaller guy, Soda could really pack a punch.

He reached his house, parked the car and went inside. He hoped there'd be food in the icebox; he and Soda's kitchen brawl had left him rather hungry and they'd eaten the last of the chocolate cake the day before. He put his keys in his pocket—Steve never kept them away from his person, especially while in his father's house—and headed for the refrigerator. His dad was still at the oil refinery and his mother was likely out playing bingo. Thank God for small favors. The three of them together in the same house almost always ended up in a huge verbal-rumble, which Steve of course consistently won, though in exchange for the win he usually ended up spending the night on Soda's couch. What a sore loser Randle Sr. was.

After a few minutes of opening and reopening every cupboard in the kitchen Steve decided there was nothing to eat. The only decent thing he found in the icebox was a carton of eggs. He shrugged. Eggs would have to do. He took two out of the carton, pulled his dad's morning-cereal bowl out of the sink and got to cooking. In his nearly-seventeen years of life Steve had learned a thing or two about making his own food. It was a necessary survival skill and one that he had mastered. At least when it came to scrambling eggs, anyway.

Ten minutes later he had his very own gourmet-style scrambled eggs. He got them on a plate and took a seat at the table. He took a bite of his hard work and savored the taste. The perfect amount of salt and pepper. Delicious. He took the time between bites to look through the mail sitting in front of him. Mostly bills (of which he pocketed the gas final notice) and a letter addressed to him from his brother. He opened it and pulled out the piece of paper with the intention to read it, but only got as far as, "Hey Steve," before he heard the front door swing open and the sound of his father stomping in.

Steve quickly and swiftly stuffed the letter into his pocket with the bill, ate his last few bites of eggs, put the fork and plate into the sink, and left out the back door.

* * *

**I hope this chapter didn't move too quickly. Feel free to tell me if it did. I realize the last half was a little pointless as far as pushing the story along goes, but I wanted show a little glimpse of Steve's home life. Obviously this a very, very small glimpse, but a glimpse all the same. And you might be wondering about the seemingly-random brother I mentioned at the end. He will not be a character in this fic, but he does serve as purpose, as I am going along with Hinton's idea of what happened to the characters after the book. If you'd like to know the details just PM me. **


	6. Chapter 6

DISCLAIMER: I do not own The Outsiders.

* * *

Back at work the next day, Steve's mind was wandering, so much so that he ran into Soda—literally—on his way out of the Employees' Lounge. 

"Whoa, hey Steve, hold your horses. The cars ain't goin' anywhere," Soda told him.

"Sorry, man, I'm a little distracted," he replied. "I got a letter from Jack yesterday."

"Oh, yeah? How's he doin'?"

"He's in Dallas now," he said, removing the letter from his pocket. "I didn't even know he left Knoxville. I'm the brother of a damn _drift_er, Sodapop."

Soda chuckled. "That's no big deal, man. He's pretty near here, huh? You should tell him to come for a visit."

Steve shook his head. "I haven't seen him in too long, that'd be awkward. Besides, he's on his way to Houston as we speak."

"Oh," Soda said simply. "Well, maybe next time he's around."

"If he ever is," Steve replied.

"He say anything else?" Soda asked.

Steve returned the letter to his pocket. "He pretended to get all pissy because I didn't send him a happy birthday letter last month. That's kind of a running gag with us. Ya know, since I don't ever really know where the hell he is."

John walked in then, wiping the oil off of his hands onto his jeans. "Curtis, would you get the hell out there? Customers are waitin'."

"Yes, sir," Soda said, grinning, before hurrying outside.

Steve went to follow his friend's lead, but was halted by John.

"I got a new assignment for you, kid," he said. "That '55 Bel-Air is still in need of some work. I need you to finish her up."

Steve felt a sudden mixture of gleefulness and confusion. "I thought that was Mike's job?" he asked.

"Not anymore, he enlisted a while back and shipped off to boot yesterday," John explained.

"Enlisted?" Steve asked, eyebrows raised.

"Yeah," he said, "enlisted, as in, no longer here. So go get to work, will ya? The owner's expectin' it back by the end of the week."

Steve nodded wordlessly and walked outside toward the garage, but not before stopping at the gas pumps to gloat.

"Hey, Soda," he said, walking over and interrupting a girl's attempt at flirtation, "guess who's workin' on the Chevy?"

Soda stopped for a moment and thought. "Mike?"

"What? No!" Steve punched Soda in the shoulder. "_I_ am, you beatnik. Did you know Mike enlisted? Crazy, right?"

"No kiddin'? Well, that's cool. Hey maybe we can get John to let us borrow it to take the girls to the game tomorrow. How tuff would we look pullin' up in that beauty?"

"Tuff as all get out. But I have a feeling we'd get fired for even asking, and I need my job," he said with a small laugh. The gas bill still sat in his back pocket with the letter.

"Hah, yeah well … You never know."

Steve chuckled and left to the garage to work on the car that he had been building up in his mind as the greatest man-made creature in existence. This was a car he had fantasized about on more than one occasion, a car that invaded his dreams and taunted him with its beauty. This was the Messiah of all cars.

But even still, Steve had some trouble keeping his thoughts concentrated on his Chevy Bel-Air. He focused hard on his wrench as he tightened the various nuts and bolts, trying to cease the oil leak, but his mind still drifted. There was Jack, whom he hadn't seen in years and only received an occasional letter from; there was his dad, who seemed to think 'Final Notice' meant 'Pay When Convenient … Or Never'; and then there was Evie, who distracted him even from his distractions. She crossed his mind several times between each thought, and just wouldn't go away. He thought of her smile, her smirk. She had nice lips. He'd have to spend about week wiping the lipstick off his own if he kissed them, but he wouldn't mind that.

So preoccupied with his thoughts, Steve didn't realize he was turning his wrench lefty-loosey, instead of righty-tighty. Not until a nice stream of motor oil escaped and squirted him in the face.

He made a sorry attempt at wiping it off. "Goddamnit, Evie …"

XXX

Steve sat on the couch in Soda's house, his knee involuntarily bouncing. He'd never admit it, but the prospect of picking Evie up in less than an hour for a first date made him nervous. Was she the kind of girl who kissed on the first date? He hoped so. Was she just another airhead? She couldn't be. He couldn't help but let a myriad of questions plague him. It was confusing; he never had this problem with other girls.

"So I guess you guys won't be coming to the races then?" Dallas asked from his spot on the couch.

"What kinda races, cars or horses?" Steve asked.

"Horses, man, what else?"

"We would, man, but we got dates with a couple of fine young ladies," Soda replied with a suave grin.

"Ya know, this is cute," Two-Bit said, pointing his cigarette at Steve and Soda. "You two goin' on a little double-date. I oughta take a picture to remember this by."

"Shut up, Two-Bit," Steve said, annoyed.

"No really, this is truly adorable. I could pinch your little cheeks," he laughed. "I'll have to ask Kathy out now so we can triple-date."

Dallas laughed.

"I wouldn't be so sure about that one, Two-Bit," Soda told him.

"How come?"

"You know her brother, man," Steve said, lighting himself a cigarette to get his leg to cease its bouncing. "You know his rep. Runs with Shepard, man."

"We whipped Shepard's gang, didn't we?" Two-Bit asked rhetorically. Dallas laughed again. "What's so funny, Dally?"

"Nothin', man."

"Aw, y'all're just jealous 'cause Kathy's prettier than Sylvia, Sandy, and Evie put together."

"Tell Sylvia that and you'll get your ass kicked," Dallas said, standing up and stretching. "So no one's gonna come with me, huh? What about Ponyboy, where's he and Johnny at?"

"You know Darry'd blow a gasket if he knew Pony was anywhere near Merril, man." Soda said.

Dallas sighed and put on his jacket. "Well, shit. I'll take 'em to the goddamn movies then. You know where they're at?"

"Pony said they were going to the bowling alley."

"All right. I'll see y'all later." He walked out, patting his various pockets for cigarettes.

Soda stood then. "Whaddya think, man? It's about time we got goin'."

"Yeah, okay," Steve replied, extinguishing his Camel.

"Well okay now, you kids go have a good time," Two-Bit said, walking toward the kitchen. "I'll go find Darry and keep him company."

"Darry's working 'til nine, Two-Bit," Soda said.

Two-Bit thought for a moment. "Well, I've got a couple six packs at home. I'll take Darry drinkin' after work," he said, laughing, and left into the kitchen.

Soda laughed. "He's crazy."

XXX

The car would not start. This was potentially the most important day of his now seventeen-year-old life, and the car would not start.

"What the hell, man?" Steve asked his steering wheel. "I keep you in the best condition known to man, I clean you, I change your oil, and you pick _now _to run out of gas?"

"We're gonna be late pickin' up the girls. Sandy's place is kinda far."

"Thanks, Soda, I didn't realize that. Shit, we'll never be able to get to the DX and back with gas in time."

Soda paused, and then grinned slyly. "We could get to the DX in time."

Steve had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. "That's great, Soda. That's real great. Except, I'm not pushing this goddamn car all the way there."

"You've got the Bel-Air pretty well fixed up, don't you?"

"That thing belongs to a Soc, man."

"All the more reason it should be test-driven before returned to the owner, right? Those Socs like their stuff in perfect shape. We've gotta make sure it runs good before handing it over, don't we?"

Steve sighed, staring at the meter, thinking.

"Goddamnit, Soda ..."

* * *

**Gahh, I'm very sorry for the long time it took to update … I should be officially nominated for Worst Updater of the Year. I'm working on it. The holidays are coming so I should have more free time. Anyway, I hope you liked the chapter, at least. This was a hard one to write for some reason, and once again I'm concerned about the pacing. Any comments/crit. are appreciated. **


	7. Chapter 7

DISCLAIMER: I do not own The Outsiders. -_le_ sigh-

* * *

He still couldn't believe he was doing this. Steve was never the type to turn down adventure, but this was one of the riskier of his and Soda's endeavors. Grand Theft Auto was fun in theory, but getting fired from the first job he'd had that he'd actually enjoyed in the slightest was not something he was interested in. 

"Soda, just how do you think we're going to manage to get that car out of the station, in broad daylight, without anyone noticing?" he asked as they began their walk to the DX.

Soda put an arm around Steve's neck. "Well first off, Stevie, it's not broad daylight. The sun's been going down for a while. Second, it's Friday. It's always slow on Fridays because everyone's taking their girls out on the town. Third, no one's going to be in the garage tonight; and Forth, I know where John keeps the keys!" His voice rose into a bit of frustrated excitement at the end of his explanation.

Steve sighed. It was his job to play the skeptic. "How are we supposed to get in and out with the keys without John seeing us? And someone's gonna be manning the pumps—they'll see us pull out."

"If someone asks we can just … tell them we're taking it back to the owner because they don't have time to pick it up."

Steve shrugged Soda's arm off of him. "And we're doing this on our day off because …?"

"Because you're John's own personal suck-up and you're hoping one day to trick him into promoting you to Supreme Ruler of the Garage before you buy the place out from under him."

Steve pushed Soda so he lost his footing for a moment and ending up narrowly avoiding getting hit by a speeding car. "You know I got no problem killin' you, Sodapop. I would be smart enough to do that, though. Minus the sucking up."

"Yeah all right, Mr. 'Oh, I'll stay after my shift and help ya clean up around here, John'," Soda replied, brushing invisible dust from his shirt.

Steve watched another car come rushing past. "You wanna get pushed into on-coming traffic again, Soda?"

Soda put his arm around Steve's neck again. "You kill me, who's gonna tell you when you're actin' like an idiot in front of Evie?"

Steve pushed Soda again, and again he very nearly missed getting hit by a '49 Ford truck.

XXX

As they neared the DX station, Steve felt relieved when he saw no customers were around, and no one was bothering to stand at the pumps, though the relief was soon followed by the thought: _Lazy bastards. _

"How perfect is this, Steve? The universe likes us, man," Soda told him as they walked to the garage.

Steve opened the door part-way to check that his Bel-Air most certainly was there, and there most certainly was not anyone lurking about. "Yeah, this is real perfect. So where are the keys and how're we getting 'em?"

"John keeps them in his office—

Steve snorted. "Good luck getting them, then."

—and my master key works on that door. We can get in and outta there quicker than you can say 'Happy Birthday'."

Steve looked at Soda hard, deciding whether or not this was worth it. "You really think we can get away with this?"

Soda smiled widely. "Of course we can. You're the one who's amazingly stealth-like in the art of car jacking."

Really, it was hubcaps that Steve was amazingly stealth-like at stealing—the closest he'd come to stealing a whole car was when he borrowed his dad's without permission, or when he helped Dally move Shepard's in act of revenge—but he felt no need to point that out. "That's true," he said. "What do I need to do?"

"Create a diversion," Soda told him. "When I go in there, distract whoever's working, especially John, and I'll slip in, unnoticed, and grab the keys. Easy as pie."

Steve sighed and shook his friend's hand in act of agreement. "Let's get this over with."

XXX

The two walked in doing their best to look incredibly innocent, though in reality they looked rather suspicious. Soda more than Steve; he didn't have as much experience in the world of theft.

Soda walked to the back in an effort to seem like he wanted something from the vending machine, and Steve went to greet Sully at the register.

"Hey, Sully," Steve said, removing his comb from his back pocket to fix his already perfect hair. "Slow day, huh?"

Sully grunted. He didn't look like much of a talker.

Steve tried not to look intimidated by Sully's lumberjack stature and slicked back his non-existent fly-away hairs. "Where's John at?"

Sully grunted again, but this time spoke. "He went to Muskogee to pick up some parts. They weren't gonna get here in time."

Maybe the universe really did like them. Steve played it cool, and replaced the comb in his pocket. "Oh … So, who else is working then?"

Sully looked thoroughly annoyed with Steve's attempt at small talk. "Frank. He's on break. Sam's shift ended a half hour ago and Earl ain't clocked in yet."

Steve watched Soda out of the corner of his eye as he made his way across the room and behind the counter. There was a small thud when he landed on the other side, Sully's side.

"Sully!" Steve said to stop him from turning around. "Do you, um, do you hang around Buck's? I feel like I've seen you around there before."

"No," he replied.

"Oh. That, uh, that must've been someone else then."

"Must've."

Steve laughed exaggeratedly as he watched Soda through the window unlocking John's office. He gave Steve the thumbs up and walked in.

"I'll hafta take you over there some time. It's real fun. Lot's of booze and dames, ya know?" He laughed again.

"I don't drink and I got a girlfriend."

Steve was a little taken aback. Sully looked more like the eternally single, raging alcoholic type.

"Do you? Talk about a lucky girl …" Soda emerged from John's office, triumphantly waving the keys at Steve. He locked the door and began his attempt at getting back to the outside of the counter without being noticed. "You should, uh, bring her by here some time. I'm sure we'd all like to meet her."

Sully said nothing, just stared. The way he was able to stare a person down, he could've been a cop instead of a cashier.

Soda climbed over the counter and landed, this time without a thud, on the other side. He walked to the back again, headed to the side of the store from which he'd entered, and left.

It was time to wrap it up. "Well, it was nice catching up with ya, Sully. We'll have to get together some time after work." He put Sully's hand into his own and shook it, nodding, before walking out after Soda.

XXX

Once Steve caught up with Soda back at the garage, he couldn't help but laugh. "Shit, that guy's got a screw loose or somethin'," he said between chuckles.

Soda laughed with him. "Yeah, no kiddin'. And he's gotta be right stupid not to of seen me."

"You can thank me for saving your ass after that giant crash-landing you had later." He opened the garage door all the way, and the pair walked in. "Gimme the keys."

"Yes, O King of all Things Automobilic." He gave Steve the keys and hopped into shot-gun.

"Automobilic?" Steve asked absentmindedly as he basked in the beauty of the car that he was about to experience firsthand.

"If you don't get in quick someone's gonna come and we'll get caught," Soda said, leaning one arm over the car door to look as tuff as possible. Though it was hard not to in that car.

Steve pulled himself from his stupor and climbed—very carefully—into the drivers' seat. He sighed. This car could kick the ass of any Mustang or T-Bird in the neighborhood all the way to Timbuktu. And it had the most comfortable leather seats Steve had ever sat in, not to mention.

"Steve?" Soda was snapping in his face. "You wanna turn the thing on? Maybe put it in drive? We're gonna be late!"

Again, Steve was forced to meet reality and he turned on the car. It had a nice sound. When they returned it after the date he'd go ahead and add a new exhaust to enhance it. He put the car in reverse and backed out of the garage as quietly as he could. He switched it to drive and pulled out of the station and onto the road. He put more pressure on the gas pedal and headed towards North Wheeling.

"Hey Steve?"

"Mmhmm?"

"Just, uh … Stay clear of 101st and Yale. That's about where Wayne Brooks lives. According to John's papers, this is his car."

"Yeah, 'cause I'd be goin' anywhere near there anyway."

"Just sayin'."

They continued driving until they were on East King, when a thought suddenly struck Steve. "Hey Soda?"

"Yeah?"

"Isn't Brooks on the baseball team?"

Soda turned to Steve, his eyes now widening. "Shit."

Steve sighed—this time not happily—and pulled onto Evie's street. "Happy birthday to me."

* * *

**I think I updated in record time! For me, anyway. I hope you enjoyed this chapter; I'll make sure to update as quick as my chronic procrastination will let me. Comments/Concrit are appreciated!**

**Btw - I noticed the ending might be a tad confusing. They are taking Evie and Sandy to their high school baseball game. I mentioned that in an earlier chapter, but it was a small detail and easy to miss.**


	8. Chapter 8

DISCLAIMER: I do not own The Outsiders. : )

* * *

Steve pulled the car up in front of Evie's house and honked. He let the steering wheel out of his death grip and turned to Sodapop. "Change of plans—we're not going to that game." 

Soda's eyes went from worried to disappointed. "We _have_ to go to the game, Steve. If we don't Sandy's gonna be expectin' me to take her to the movies." He looked at his hands. "I ain't goin' to no stupid movie."

"Yeah, well I ain't gonna be caught by Brooks in his own damned car, nuh-uh, no way."

"Come on, man. My excuse for skippin' out on seeing that _What's Up with the Virgin Wolf?_ or whatever it's called was the game. I told her I've never missed one before."

Steve honked again. "Damnit, Soda—so we'll see _Batman _or something, all right?"

"What are you so freaked out for? It's not a big deal, he ain't gonna see us."

"What if he does? Even on the off chance that he don't call the cops or do his best to get us fired, he'll tell his daddy, and _my _dad'll hafta pay. You know Earl Brooks runs the refinery?"

"What kid in his right mind would go cryin' to his dad when he could just settle it then and there?"

"A Soc, maybe."

Soda turned so he was faced toward Steve. "Okay, so we'll drop the girls off at the field, then we'll go park the car somewhere safe where Wayne won't find it, then after the game we'll go back and get it and bring it back to the DX. No one'll have any idea it was missing."

"I'm really tied of listenin' to your ideas. Mine are better."

"No, you're not thinkin' clearly 'cause you're thinking about Evie. I've already had a first date with Sandy so my head ain't fuzzy. Besides, if we took them to the movies then we'd of borrowed this car for no reason."

Steve sighed and gripped the steering wheel again. He had to agree somewhat with Soda. Since meeting Evie he _had _been a little preoccupied … Maybe he really wasn't thinking clearly … No, he was confident his mind was as sharp as ever …Though it was true he was never one to do things in vain, especially something as big as stealing a Soc's car … _Shit_. "All right," he said. "We'll go to the damn game. But if we get caught, or arrested, or anything unpleasant happens, I've got no problem blamin' the whole thing on you. Got it?"

Soda laughed and patted Steve's shoulder. "All right, buddy, I wouldn't doubt it."

Steve couldn't help but laugh too. He honked again. "Where is Evie? I've honked like three times."

Soda peered out Steve's window. "Maybe you should go knock on her door. Girls like that."

"Hell no," he replied, turning to look at Soda. "That would mean I'd hafta meet her dad. I've met girl's fathers before and it ain't pretty."

"Meeting the girl's dad is easy. You just sweet talk 'em, same as you do the girl."

"Ya know, for some reason, I don't think her father would like me callin' him 'Babe' or 'Darling'."

Soda began to laugh, and at that moment, Evie emerged from her home. Soda saw her first. "Hey, man," he said, ceasing his laughter. "There she is."

Steve looked out his window and stared. There was Evie, walking down her front porch steps, clad in a skirt short enough to get her sent home from school, and a tight, light-colored blouse that Steve very much appreciated. Her wavy hair bounced as she walked, and … something else did, too, Steve couldn't help but notice.

Soda clapped him on the back. "Damn straight, happy birthday to you! You can thank me for _that_," he motioned to Evie, "later."

"I ain't thankin' you for jack. You ain't the one lookin' good in a skirt over there."

"Let's keep it that way."

"Now get in the back, Evie's riding shotgun."

Soda climbed past the front seats into the back, nearly kicking Steve in the face. "Get out and open the door for her. Girls like that, too."

"Hush up, Soda."

Evie walked up to Steve's window and tapped it lightly. He rolled the window down. "Great car, Steve. Is it new?"

Steve laughed uneasily. Did she know it wasn't his? "Uh, yeah, it's new."

She noticed Soda in the back. "Hi," she said. She looked at Steve again. "Steve, could you come inside real quick? My dad wants to meet you."

Steve shot a look back at Soda, who laughed quietly. "Sure, I could come in for a bit."

"Thanks." She started back through the lawn.

Steve got out of the car and closed the door hard. He gave Soda a meaningful look.

"Ain't my fault, man," he replied through laughter.

He pulled his comb out of his pocket and began the walk up to the front door.

XXX

Walking inside, he gave his hair one more swipe with the comb, and returned it to his pocket.

"It looks like you spend more time on your hair than I do," she said. "I'll go get my dad. Make yourself at home."

He looked around the small living room he stood in. Tiny, but tidy. Tidier than his place. That would make sense—she's a girl; she probably cleans. He sat awkwardly on the sofa and waited.

A moment later, she was back in the room, this time with her father. Steve quickly stood and shook his hand. He immediately regretted that. The man had a vise grip, and seemed to be sizing Steve up by how well he mirrored it. Mr. Davis was over six feet, but wasn't the terrifying giant he'd imagined. He looked over-friendly in an "I have no problem killing you," kind of way.

"Daddy, this is Steve. Steve, this is my dad," Evie said as Mr. Davis let go of Steve's hand.

"Hello, sir," Steve said.

"So you're the infamous Steve, huh?" _In_famous?

"I am."

"Evelyn talks about you quite a bit."

Steve grinned widely. Evie talked about him quite a bit. Bumbling fool no more, Evie talked about him quite a bit! "Does she?"

"Dad!" she said in a half-whisper. He shrugged.

"What? You do, don't you?" She rolled her eyes at him. "Evelyn, honey, will go get a couple glasses of lemonade? You must be thirsty, huh, Steve?"

He would've liked to have said, "No, thanks," but this man was intimidating without being threatening. He questions were more like statements. "Dad, we'll have drinks at the game. We need to go or we'll be late," Evie told her father. Steve was glad she, at least, could protest.

"I'd like to get to know Steve, hon. Just go get us a couple glasses of juice, won't you?" Again with those question-commands. She rolled her eyes and walked out of the room. "Please, Steve, have a seat," Mr. Davis said once she was out of sight. Steve sat, and Mr. Davis sat next to him. "So, Steve …"

"Yes, sir."

"That short for Steven?"

Steve cleared his throat nervously. "Yes, sir."

He leaned forward so his eyes bore deep into Steve's. "So, Steven, you like my daughter very much, yeah?"

"Yes, sir."

"You know her curfew is ten o'clock?"

"I do now. I'll have her home by ten. Sir."

"Good, good. You drink, Steven?" His eyes narrowed even more-so.

Steve felt his ears get hot. He'd been grilled by over-bearing parents before, but Mr. Davis could've made an Olympic sport out of it. He could've been saying, "I love puppies," and it would make a kid fidgety. "No, sir," Steve replied. "I just turned seventeen; I'm not allowed to drink alcohol." He prided himself on his ability to lie, even to the most browbeating authority figures.

Evie returned then with the lemonade. She handed two glasses to her father and Steve. "Thank you, honey," Mr. Davis said. "I was just catching up with Mister … Randle, isn't it?"

"Yes, sir."

"I noticed that car you pulled up in. It's nice. Pristine, really. That a '55?"

Steve smiled a bit. "Yes it is, sir."

"It's still in such good condition; you must've saved a lot for it?"

His smile faded. "Yeah, it's in great condition."

Mr. Davis eyed him, not speaking.

"Dad, we really, really need to get going. The game's going to start without us."

He paused for a moment. "I guess I'll let you two get goin' on your date," he began. _Phew_. "But Steve, let me tell you something." _Damn it_. "I'm entrusting the safety and wellbeing of my only daughter to you. If _any_thing happens to her, if you get her back here a minute past ten o'clock … things will be ... unpleasant." Steve sat his full lemonade glass on the table and stood, nodding.

"_Dad_."

"You two go on now."

Thank you, God.

She grabbed Steve by the arm and pulled him out of the house. "I'm so sorry about my dad," she said as they walked back to the car. "I didn't think he'd act like that."

"That's all right," he replied, and walked over to open her door. "No big deal." She took her seat in shotgun and he closed the door, before getting back in the driver's seat. "Sorry we took so long, Soda."

He stretched and yawned. "No problem, man. I just walked to the DX again and filled your car's gas tank, but I hardly had enough time."

"Don't even start pullin' that sarcasm shit, 'cause mine'll knock you out," Steve replied.

"And mine'll knock _you _out," Evie added.

Steve snorted. "Yeah, right."

"Don't try me, Randle. I've made boys all over this city cry."

Steve smirked. "They were cryin' about _some_thing." He thought for a moment that she'd be offended, like most girls would be, but she laughed. This was a strange occurrence—days ago he could hardly get a coherent sentence out around her without sounding like an idiot, now he was back to his old self.

"Yes, they were."

Soda broke in, "Come on, man, let's go. We're gonna be late pickin' up Sandy."

Evie turned back to see Soda. "Oh, my _God_, I can't wait to see her. It's been forever."

"You two know each other?"

"We used to go to school together."

"Well, ain't that lovely, Steve? A couple of friends, datin' a couple of friends." He smiled charmingly.

Steve headed towards Sandy's place. "Yeah, it's lovely."

XXX

"All right, Soda. Get in, and get out. Please," Steve told him once they'd reached Sandy's house.

"I'll be back in a jiffy. Don't worry." Soda stepped out of the car and bounded up to her front door.

Evie turned to Steve. "This is exciting. I haven't seen her in forever."

"Y'all were good friends?"

"Pretty close. We ran with the same group in junior high."

He nodded, but said nothing else. Conversation starter, he was not. He needed a prompt, and he lacked.

Evie took the lead. "I'm glad you called me."

He raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Mmhmm. Baseball's not exactly my idea of romantic, but …"

"Well, it's just, my buddy really wanted to go. He uh … never misses a game." He chuckled a bit at the last part. "Next time we can go somewhere more entertaining."

"We better." Her bright red lips formed a sultry, yet innocent smile. Steve had never before found any one girl's lips so interesting, or inviting. He felt drawn to them, he felt …

"Evie!"

… Like his ears might bleed. He looked to his left out the window and saw Sandy, all smiles, standing with Soda. "Damn, that was right in my ear."

"Sorry, uh," she turned to Soda and whispered something. He whispered back. "Steve. Sorry, Steve." She ran around to Evie's side of the car and opened the door.

"I haven't seen you in over a semester!" They hugged and began talking so quickly Steve could only catch every few words. He looked questioningly over at Soda, who shrugged, shaking his head.

"Come on, Sandy, we've gotta get going. The game is gonna start soon," Soda said, walking over to her side.

She slowly stopped her hyper-discussion, smiled happily at him and took her seat. He smiled back and climbed in after her.

Steve shot Evie an odd look. Sandy seemed just a little too sugary-sweet for him. "So are we all ready for this damned game?"

Soda put an arm around Sandy. "Let's get outta here."

Steve put the car in drive. "Hallelujah."

* * *

**Hah, well that was thoroughly boring. At least I updated quicker, eh? I promise it'll get more interesting soon—this was kind of an awkward chapter. But I hope you enjoyed it anyway. Comments/Concrit are appreciated.**


	9. Chapter 9

DISCLAIMER: Yes, it is true. I lack ownership of The Outsiders. The writing/posting of this story earns me no money. –_le _sigh-

* * *

A high school baseball game was not Steve's idea of a good time. He'd take it over a trip to the movies, definitely, and they were plenty fun when it was just him, Soda, and the gang goofing around, but this was something entirely different. On a (first) date, he actually had to seat in the bleachers and watch—something he wasn't used to. He quickly grew tired of listening to a bunch dimwit Socs whoop and holler, and Soda was too busy charming Sandy to be of any entertainment. Normally he and Soda would partake in certain juvenile mischief—messing with the Socs, yelling obscenities at the opposing team, whistling at girls as they passed—but being on a date required that they act more maturely. Steve sighed. He was bored.

He turned to Evie. "You want a Coke? Or a … Rogers sweatshirt or somethin'?"

She laughed, and shook her head. "I'll pass on the sweatshirt. I could use a Coke, though. It's hot out tonight. You know, April. Spring. Heat."

He stood up quickly, pulling change out of his pocket and laughing quietly, embarrassed (though he wouldn't show it) at her reference to their encounter in the school hallway days before. "Yeah, the temperature seems to peak around eight in the evening." She smiled. "I'll go get you one."

She reached up and grabbed his open hand, pulling herself to her feet. "I'll go with you."

"All right," he said. "Hey, Soda, we're goin' to get some drinks, you want anything?"

Soda and Sandy broke away from their conversation just long enough to look up and ask for a couple of Pepsis. Under usual circumstances Steve wouldn't be too eager to fetch beverages for a perfectly capable person, but these circumstances were not of the usual. Soda was seemingly deep in conversation with Sandy, more than just the surface flirtations most guys used on most girls. He liked her very much, Steve could tell, and their attraction was mutual.

"Come on," he said to Evie, and they made their way down the crowded bleachers and toward the concession stands.

"So, uh, you a big Will Rogers baseball fan?" she asked, already knowing the answer, as they walked toward the line.

"You think I woulda offered to get you a drink if I was?" He chuckled sarcastically.

She smiled. "I'd never expect it."

He looked at her, unsmiling. He liked her very much, and he hoped that attraction was mutual, too. Though, he still wasn't quite sure why or how he'd come to like her so much, so quickly. It was uncharacteristic of him, and confusing as hell. He did his best to brush it off, but it never quite worked. "What about you?" he asked. "You dig baseball?"

She giggled, taking a fresh stick of gum out of her bag and removing it from its wrapper. "Not really," she said, and then paused. "But my uncle took me to a Colt .45s game a few years ago when I visited him in Houston."

"Oh, yeah?" He laughed. "I think they're called the Astros now."

"Oh," she said sheepishly. "I guess that sounds better."

He nodded, and they grew quiet. He mentally kicked himself (he'd been doing that a lot lately); why he was out with one girl he actually liked as more than just another good- lookin' broad, yet was perpetuating a conversation about _baseball_ of all things, was beyond him. "Cars are more my thing," he said finally. Now there was a subject he didn't mind talking about.

"I can imagine, what with that nice car you've got."

Steve couldn't help but feel a tad guilty, keeping up the charade, but ignored it. He never actually said it was, in fact, _his _car, after all. "Yeah, they're my specialty."

"My dad digs cars, so I know a little bit. How to change a tire, anyway." She laughed.

"Oh, once you been hangin' around me a while, you'll be liftin' hubcaps quicker than greased lightning," he joked.

Evie ran a hand through her hair. "Well, that's something to look forward to."

"You gonna buy something or stand around all day?"

Steve realized they'd reached the front of the line, where a kid he recognized from school was standing, annoyed, waiting for them to order something.

"Robert, when the hell did you get a job?" Steve asked.

"Pop or popcorn, man?" he replied, irritated.

"What kinda Coke you want, Evie?"

"Dr. Pepper," she answered.

"All right, Robbie, that'll be a Coke, a Dr. Pepper, and two Pepsis."

Robert took his time fetching the four drinks. "That'll be a quarter."

Steve shelled out the change and handed Evie two drinks before taking two, himself. They began the walk back to their seats, and Steve began to elaborate on the car conversation. "Oh yeah, I can school you real good in anything you wanna know about cars, girlie."

"I'll have to come by the DX sometime for a lesson. Or are you still working the register?" she asked with a smirk.

"Hell, naw. I was only at the register before as a favor to someone who had to cut out early. I'm the best mechanic they've got. Come by anytime, I'll show ya the ropes."

She smiled, and they climbed back up the bleachers to their seats, where, Steve could see, Soda was grinning ear-to-ear and Sandy was laughing heartily. "Soda, man, take your blasted drink," Steve said once they reached the top.

Soda and Sandy took their Pepsis. "Thanks, man," Soda replied.

"Anything interesting happen while we was gone?" Steve motioned to the game.

Soda looked toward the field. "Oh, uh, same ol', same ol', I guess."

Steve shook his head and took a drink of Coke. Sandy started up her incessant chatting, and even from a couple feet away, it buzzed in Steve's ear. Sandy was a nice enough girl, especially if Soda liked her so much, but Steve was glad Evie didn't talk all the time like that.

"So, where did y'all meet?" Steve noticed the buzzing was now directed at him.

"Huh?" he asked, turning toward her.

She leaned past Soda. "You and Evie, how'd y'all two meet each other?"

"Oh," he looked back at the game, "uh, school."

"Well, actually," Evie leaned past Steve, "we met at the DX. But we go to school together."

"Oh, that's how Soda and I met!" Sandy exclaimed, perhaps unnecessarily loud.

Way to state the obvious. "Yeah, I was there," Steve said, a little sarcastically.

"Hmm … I guess you were," Sandy replied. There was a long, awkward pause, which was broken only by the sound of Steve sipping his Coke. Soda noticed it and tried to fix it.

"Check it out, guys, we're winning!" he said, pseudo-enthusiastically, pointing to the field.

Sandy rolled her eyes and stood up. "I need to use the ladies' room. Evie?"

Evie sighed. "I just got back!" Sandy sent her a meaningful look. She sighed, getting up and following Sandy down the bleachers.

Steve and Soda watched them walk through the crowds. "There they go to talk about us." Soda laughed, and playfully punched Steve in the shoulder.

Steve looked at the girls as they walked toward the restrooms, and sighed, annoyed. "You think that's good or bad?"

XXX

Walking into the girls' room, Evie lit a cigarette and took a short drag. "What is it, Sandy?"

Sandy walked over to one of the cracked mirrors and began examining her makeup. "Soda's handsomer than James Dean, isn't he?"

Evie morbidly thought of what Dean plausibly looked like on September 30, 1955, but held back a smile and agreed, "He's cute as a box of puppies." He _was _cute, sure, but maybe a little over the top.

"He's a dream, I swear." She rubbed away some fallen mascara from underneath her eye. "What's wrong with that Steve boy you're with?"

"Hmm?"

Sandy turned so her back was to the mirror. "Steve, what's he so angry about? He don't like me or somethin'?"

Evie raised an eyebrow slightly. "What are you goin' on about?"

"He looks really, I don't know … pissed off, for some reason."

Evie laughed. "He's not pissed off, that's just how he looks, I think." She took another drag and smiled through the smoke as she exhaled.

"Oh. Well, what's fun about dating a guy who looks like he just ate a bunch of sour grapes?" Sandy asked, lighting her own Lucky Strike.

She rolled eyes, though wasn't really annoyed. "Shut up, I like him. Besides, I think we match."

"Match? What do you mean?" She looked at Evie for a moment. "I guess you both have dark hair," she took a few steps closer to her, "and … green eyes, too. That's about it, as far as I can tell."

Evie shook her head, and pushed her hair back. Looks weren't exactly what she was getting at, but she didn't feel the need to explain any further. "We should get back, they're waiting."

Sandy shrugged. "All right, but maybe you could tell him to be a little less angry-looking? It's kind of a drag."

"Oh, _please_. Anyone's a drag at a boring old baseball game. Just wait 'til you see him in action. He knows cars better than anybody, believe me, and he's the best mechanic around. Once you get to know him, you'll see."

Sandy rolled her eyes. "Right, as if you really know him."

"I know Steve better than you know Soda, at least. All you do is giggle at his pick-up lines." Evie took a hit off her cigarette and blew the smoke in Sandy's face.

"Don't kid yourself, Evie. You've known him for what, a few days? I met Soda weeks ago. He rides in rodeos, you know," she said, her hands now on her hips.

Evie rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Who cares if he can ride a horse? A horse can't take you for a drive around town, or anything else fun, for that matter."

"Yeah, well, at least Soda can do something _besides_ change the oil in a car."

"Yeah, well, at least Steve isn't hanging all over me."

"Yeah, well, at least …"

They paused angrily for a moment, before finally succumbing to laughter. "We're being stupid," Sandy said through a laugh. "God, they're just _boys _for crying out loud."

"No kidding. Let's just, uh, call a truce and agree they're both lovely."

Sandy chuckled. "Deal. Now let's get going or they're gonna think we fell in."

They walked out of the restroom, dropped their smokes on the pavement, and went back to their seats.

XXX

"_Aaannndd_, they're back," Soda said in the voice of a horse race announcer as the girls made their way up the bleachers. "They're smilin', too, I think they were talkin' good things about us." Steve laughed, and their dates made it to the top and took their seats.

"So, what'd we miss?" Evie asked.

Steve shrugged. "Nothin' worth writing home about."

"Anyone else bored as all get out here? Baseball just ain't fun to watch when you're really watchin'," Soda said, putting his arm around Sandy's shoulders.

"Yeah, this place is out of it. Too many damn Socs. There's what, one inning left? Two? Y'all wanna cut out early, get a bite to eat or somethin'?" Steve suggested.

"Oh yeah, I'm starving!" Sandy said brightly.

Steve looked at Evie. "You wanna get outta here?"

She shrugged and stood. "Let's go."

XXX

Pulling into the Dingo off of the Ribbon, Steve was wary of anyone who looked like the type to do something to Brooks' car. Unfortunately, just about everyone who came to the Dingo looked like they might. In the month before, a girl was shot by some crazy, drunk guy waving a gun around like a maniac. (Whether or not she lived, Steve wasn't sure). The Dingo was one of Steve's favorite food joints, but it was a place you had to be careful around, especially with a Soc's car that could get you jailed, or even fired if you weren't careful.

"Can we eat inside?" Sandy asked. "I don't think I ever have."

Steve nodded and drove through the parking lot, looking for an empty space. At the Dingo people usually ate in their cars, or walked around, but eating inside was an option, too.

"Maybe we oughta park 'round back," Soda suggested, watching a kid eye the car as they drove.

"Ya think?" Steve asked, smart-alecky, as he drove around to the other side of the restaurant and found a satisfactory spot. He parked the car and the four of them walked inside the loud, smoke-filled building.

The Dingo lacked a hostess, so they meandered on back and chose their own booth. Steve grinned at the vague sounds of a fist fight coming from another room, or right outside. The Dingo was a helluva lot better than some baseball game; things were happening all around, constantly. Action was what Steve thrived on.

A waitress walked over and handed everyone menus. Steve gave them back. "I think we all know what we want, right?"

The waitress rolled her eyes and took out a pad and pen. "What do y'all want?"

"A Pepsi and just a salad with light dressing," Sandy said pleasantly.

"Could I get that chicken thing? That comes with the onion rings? And a, uh … CoCola." Soda said, and the waitress wrote.

Evie smiled. "I'd like a cheeseburger, no onions or tomatoes, fries on the side, and a Root Beer."

Steve looked at her. She actually ordered something, whodathunkit? He liked a girl who ordered more than a couple of croutons like most he'd dated did. Picky chicks like that didn't mesh well with Steve; they just got annoying. "I'll have the same, but a Coke instead," he told the waitress.

She jotted it down, already walking off. "I'll be back with your drinks."

Soon after, she came back and set their drinks on the table, along with four straws. Steve picked a straw up and had to fight back the urge to blow the wrapper at the waitress, and he could tell Soda had to as well. It was immature, sure, but still fun.

"Hey, Soda, how much ass do you think we'd whoop racin' in that car?" Steve asked, referring to the Bel-Air.

"Man, in that car, we'd be like Fireball Roberts and Eddie Sachs," he replied with a suave grin.

"Except maybe, not dead," Steve added.

Soda laughed a little uneasily, and took a sip of his Coke. Even four months later, he was still pretty fragile when it came to talking about death, even lightheartedly. Steve forgot sometimes.

Evie's eyebrows rose. "Y'all race cars, too?"

Steve draped an arm around Evie's shoulders. She didn't shake it off, so he took that as a good sign. "Oh yeah, all the time," he said.

"Actually, when Curly Shepard was at our place last week, he let it slip that there was a pretty hefty race bein' organized for this weekend. Tomorrow, I think. For big money, too."

Steve and Evie leaned forward, interested. "No kiddin'?" Steve asked rhetorically. "He say where?"

"I ain't sure, just heard the Brumly boys were involved, so I figure somewhere around there, outta the city."

"Is that safe? Those kids from Brumly are tough," Sandy interjected.

"Oh, come on, Sandy, we've hung around tougher guys," Evie said, stirring her pop with her straw.

Tougher? "Nah, them Brumly boy ain't so badass like they think. We whooped 'em before, and we could again. Sounds to me like this might could make for some quality entertainment," Steve said, his interest peaked.

The waitress came back with their food and layed it out on the table. "If you need anything just let me know."

"Sounds pretty tuff," Evie said when she left. "Maybe we could come? Wave a flag or something?"

"Could we?" Sandy asked, poking at her salad.

Soda nodded, thoughtfully. "We could probably do that. You gotta be careful, though, with all those dirty greasers hangin' around," he joked.

Evie picked up her burger. "I think we can handle ourselves." She smiled at Sandy.

"You'll hafta do something about that ten o'clock curfew, then." Steve looked around for a clock, though he knew there wasn't one around. "What time is it, anyway?"

Sandy opened her bag and took out a small pocket watch. "A little after nine."

"We better eat and get outta here."

"Don't worry about my dad, Steve. He just gets like that when I go out with a new guy. Time is no factor." She smiled at him, now, and took a bite of her food.

XXX

They walked out, Steve with his arm around Evie, and Soda with his around Sandy, around to the back of the building where they'd left the car. Who they found leaning against it, they never would've thought they'd see around the Dingo.

"What the hell're you greasers doin' with my car?" Wayne Brooks asked angrily, standing upright and walking toward them, two cronies in tow.

Steve and Soda stepped out in front of the girls. Steve looked at Soda. "This was all your idea, man."

Soda dug a cigarette out of his pocket.

* * *

**Wow, I updated, amazing, isn't it? I would've gotten this up a few days ago, but I got a bit distracted. Hopefully I made up for it with a longer chapter? I know my last one got rather dialogue-heavy, so I tried to even it out with this one. And -gasp- I added Evie's POV! If it seemed to, er ... random, or just didn't fit, tell me and I'll try to fix it. Comments/ConCrit are appreciated. : )**


	10. Chapter 10

DISCLAIMER: I do not own The Outsiders. Updated for Good Fic Day.

* * *

Steve had to think fast. Getting in a fight with the Socs wasn't an odd thing, but usually he hadn't actually committed any wrong against them. This time he had.

_Shit_.

And now Evie would know he didn't have such a nice car, too. Great.

Luckily, Steve was the king of bullshitting. This always worked to his advantage and it was about to help him out of another pickle. He noticed Soda nervously put a cigarette between his lips and search for a light. Steve removed his half-gone pack of Diamond matches and tossed it to him before retiring his hands to his jeans pockets and slouching, tough-like.

"What's all this about?" Steve asked nonchalantly, motioning to the two angry-looking guys standing behind Brooks, one holding a switchblade.

"This?" Brooks replied, eyebrows rising in raging—and quite possibly drunken—energy. "This means y'all two are about to get your asses kicked if you don't tell me what the hell you're doing with my car!"

Steve smirked; he could always act cool under pressure when need be. He decided to test the drunken theory. "Brooksie, may I ask, what in the Sam Hill are _you _doing at the Dingo? This ain't your kinda hangout."

"That isn't any of your business, all right, grease?" he replied, pointing an unsteady finger at them.

"Steve," Evie said, lightly grabbing his elbow.

Steve gently shook her off and nodded at Brooks. "Oh, no kidding? Well what are you doin' out back here? Ya usually don't even find us greasers hangin' around out here."

Brooks continued to point a swaying finger at them. "I know a guy—a cook here—who sells liquor real cheap, all right?"

_Bingo_. "Mmm," Steve said, nodding again. "You already empty out all your parent's liquor cabinets?"

Soda laughed slightly, easing up, but Steve stayed focused on Wayne.

"Yeah, so?" Brooks let it slip easy. Drunks were always too eager to tell the truth, no matter how much they wanted to fight it.

"Well, Wayne, see, the reason we have your car is real simple!" He laughed. "I'm the head mechanic over at the DX—that's the gas station your daddy dropped the car off to get all the work done on it—and after I heard of that big baseball game tonight, I just got the greatest idea."

Brooks looked intrigued. The kid behind him lowered the knife. Those Socs sure got wasted quick. What, did they drink _dur_ingthe game? What a bunch of pansies.

"See, me and Soda here, we just had this feeling that y'all would win that ball game, and we thought, as a surprise kind of award, we'd present you with that little beauty after you scored the winning run. But when we lost …," he broke off or a moment in fake sadness, "… when we lost, I just figured you'd want to be alone. I didn't wanna bother you with all this. You know how it is."

Steve hoped they _had_ actually lost the game. Evie snickered a bit.

Brooks' expression softened, but the scowl returned a moment later. "Well, thanks a whole fuckin' lot," he said.

"No problem," Steve said, and forced himself to add, "buddy."

"I could still kick your little asses for this … but I won't, only 'cause your chicks are here. Now give … gimme my goddamn keys."

Steve fished the keys out of his pocket and held them out in front of him. Brooks reached for them, and the second time, grabbed them. "Don't worry, man, I'll mail ya the bill," Steve said as Brooks and his friends stalked off to the car.

Steve was really going to miss that thing.

When the three Socs were securely in the vehicle and Brooks had tooled out of the lot, Soda dropped his cigarette on the pavement and turned to Steve, smiling. "Damn, you sure can lie when you gotta."

They turned to the girls and Steve quietly laughed. "It comes in handy real good."

Sandy looked distressed. "Can someone please tell me what's going on? That's _not_ your car?"

"I think that's kind of obvious, Sandy," Evie said with a giggle. Hell, maybe she was all right with it.

"That part was kinda my fault," Soda said. "We needed a car."

"Don't you have one?" Evie asked.

"It's uh …." Steve did not want to tell her his car ran out of blasted _gas_. He was suddenly having a hard time thinking up a story to tell. "The engine … It's getting … worked on. And, it's uh; I'm installing a, uh, muffler cutout, so I can't … drive it. Right now, anyway."

"Oh," she said simply.

"Then how are we supposed to get home, Soda?" Sandy asked.

Soda sighed slightly but his eyes grinned despite it. He was getting a kick out of her worrying. But if she was gonna be Soda's girl—and Steve was quite sure she would be—she'd learn real soon to appreciate spontaneity. "I guess we'll be walkin'. I'm thinkin' the bus don't run this late."

"Soda, I'll miss curfew …"

He put his arm around her and smiled. "Don't worry, darlin', I'll make it up to ya."

A small smile crossed her face. "How?"

"Aw, you'll see. Hey, Steve, I guess I'll catch ya later."

Steve shook Soda's free hand. "Guess so. Make sure we remember to mail that bill tomorrow, savvy?"

"Heh, you remind me and I'll remember, savvy?"

Steve grinned. "Good deal, then. See ya later."

"See ya, Sandy," Evie added, as she and Soda turned away.

Steve and Evie turned in the opposite direction and began their walk. Steve couldn't help but feel embarrassed over having to walk his date home all the way from the Ribbon. It was goddamn _embarrassing_, for chrissake.

Evie must've sensed his inner-turmoil. "This is okay; I like to walk. There's a breeze now."

He felt he should tell he was sorry, but Steve was never good at apologies. Apologizing was almost like admitting he was wrong. Sure, he _was _wrong, but nevertheless …. Steve put his arm around her shoulders and figured that would suffice.

XXX

Truth be told, Evie was glad Wayne Brooks had come and taken his car back. She'd been looking forward to some alone time with Steve, getting to know him. He was certainly an interesting character.

With his arm around her, she felt secure, and had to keep herself from leaning her head on his shoulder as they walked. They weren't exactly close enough to cuddle just yet. She hoped to remedy that.

"You gonna be in trouble for being late?" he asked. She knew this was code for, "Is your daddy gonna kick my ass?" Her father had that effect on people.

"Like, I said, Steve, time doesn't matter. Don't worry about my dad."

He shrugged and fell quiet. It seemed like he was like that a lot, except maybe around Soda. She wondered why. "I had a good time tonight," she said finally.

Looking down at her, his face brightened. "You did? Even havin' to walk through all this?" He motioned to the various loud, drunken people staggering down the sidewalks, and the cars driving loudly and quickly by.

"I don't mind it," she said. He seemed to be enjoying the action, despite his quiet voice. "It's actually kind of nice."

"I dig it, too," he said. She went ahead and leaned her head on his shoulder. He didn't shrug it off, so she figured he didn't mind. She thought she even felt his overly tensed shoulders relax a little.

Nearing the end of the Ribbon, that turned down a quieter and darker street, looking, Evie realized, like a couple of disgustingly sweet teenage lovers. She smiled. "You know what Sandy said tonight?" she asked rhetorically. "She said you looked really pissed off, like you didn't like her or something. I told her she was being idiotic."

Steve laughed, looking down at the ground.

"What?"

He looked up again. "That ain't the first time I heard that. Mrs. Curtis—Soda's mom—used to tell me all the time I gave off some kind of air of 'I hate you,' even if I didn't." He laughed again. "She was a real blunt woman, Mrs. Curtis was."

Evie laughed a little. She'd heard about the Curtis kids losing their parents a few months previous, and she didn't want to say the wrong thing about a touchy subject. She knew how it felt.

They both grew quiet again, but Evie liked it. She found herself enjoying just _be_ing with Steve, which something she hadn't expected a few days ago. Yes, Steve Randle was definitely an interesting character, and one she hoped to get to know further.

XXX

As they approached her house, Steve slowed his walk. He wasn't looking forward to seeing her father, and, if he was truthful with himself, he didn't want to say good night to Evie, either. There was just something about her that he dug more than all of his former girlfriends put together.

The porch light flicked on. They stopped.

"Maybe I shouldn't walk you to the door …" Steve started.

"Maybe not," Evie replied. She leaned her head up, and Steve moved his arm from its comfortable place on her shoulders. "I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Yeah, sure," he said. "I'm workin' for a while, though."

The front door opened and a little boy poked his head out.

Evie rolled her eyes. "That's my brother."

"Well, I guess … Good night," Steve said. He wanted to kiss her, but he still wasn't sure if she was the type of girl to kiss on the first date, especially with the ten-year-old within viewing distance.

"Good night, Steve." She leaned forward and gently kissed him. She smiled, raising a manicured eyebrow, and then walked back to her house.

Steve grinned widely. It was hardly even a kiss, but he sure felt like he had something to tell gang the next day.

* * *

**Oh, jeez. I'm rather worried about this chapter coming off as sappy. If it is, or seems unrealistic, please tell me and I'll do my best to fix it. Comments/Concrit appreciated!**


	11. Chapter 11

DISCLAIMER: I do not own _The Outsiders_, or any of the characters within the book. I just like to pretend.

* * *

**A/N: I very much apologize for the lateness of this chapter. I actually really truly would've had it up sooner had this website not been a bitch to me for a couple of weeks!**

Steve could feel someone staring at him.

He slowly opened one eye and saw Ponyboy standing upside down. Steve grunted as he sat up, rubbing his tired eyes, so Pony was standing right side up again. He was still staring.

"What?" Steve asked finally.

Pony motioned to the clock on the wall. "You're gonna be late if ya don't get up."

It was ten o'clock. Steve's shift started at ten-thirty. "Jesus, Ponyboy, think you coulda woke me up a little earlier? Damn, and I gotta walk over there and everything. John's gonna be pissed," he muttered as he walked briskly into the kitchen.

Darry was sitting at the table, writing something.

"Not workin' today, Darrel?" Steve walked over to the half-eaten cake on the table and cut himself a slice.

"Nope," Darry said, shaking his head. "Rained last night, it's too muddy to work. Got canceled. My night job don't start 'til … tonight."

Steve nodded, taking a bite of his cake. "What're you writin'?"

Darry set the pen down and stood up, folding the paper. "Pony and I are do somethin' productive for once." He put the paper in his pocket. "We've got some house chores to tend to. He thought it'd be cool to go out to the races with Dal and Buck without tellin' me, so he owes me one."

"Well you two have fun with that, Superman," Steve said, licking some chocolate icing off his thumb. "Soda gone?"

"He went to work about an hour ago. Doesn't your shift start soon? You better get goin', man, you look like shit."

Steve ran his free hand through his hair. He did look like shit—the grease was mostly gone. He dropped his cake back on the plate and went to the bathroom to fix his hair back to perfection before setting out by foot on his trek to the DX station.

XXX

"Randle—you're late. Wanna tell me why?" John drawled out with an annoyed look on his face.

Steve opened his mouth to speak but was cut off.

"No, never mind, don't bother," John changed his mind, waving off any excuse Steve had. "Come with me to the garage, I gotta talk to you and Curtis."

Steve followed his boss across the lot to the garage where Soda was, though just his legs were visible, sticking out from underneath a '52 Ford.

"Curtis," John said with enough force to make Soda jump.

"Ow," he said, sliding out from underneath the vehicle, a large oil smudge on his forehead. "Oh, hey, John." He stood and shook John's hand.

"Soda. Steve. Y'all mind tellin' me where the hell the Chevy Bel-Air got to? I had an interestin' conversation with Frank yesterday; he said you two dropped by, and after that, the car was gone."

Soda cleared his throat nervously and leaned against the hood of the car, flashing a fake smile.

Steve stifled a sigh. Perhaps they should have discussed what to tell John the night before. He decided to tell him the same lie he'd told Brooks. "Well, sir, I'm friendly with the owner of that car, and, see, there was this big ball game over at the school, and I thought I'd congratulate him with it all good as new. All the work was done, and he needed the car, so I figured why not? We're mailing him the bill and everything, so …" he went ahead with his risky final sentence, "no big deal."

John looked at the two of them with narrowed eyes. "No big deal?" He shook his head. "God Almighty, this is what I get for hiring teenaged kids."

"This and cheaper labor," Soda mumbled almost inaudibly to his hands as he wiped the grease off onto a rag. Steve fought back a grin; he must've been hanging around Two-Bit more lately.

"Do you two not realize that you can't just go and decide a car is good'n fixed unless I say so? Hot damn, what do you think you're experts? Well, lemme assure ya—you ain't."

When it was clear Steve wasn't going to offer any kind of apology, Soda stepped in. "We're real sorry, sir. We didn't realize it'd cause such a ruckus."

John's expression softened, if only slightly. Leave it to Soda to charm his way out of trouble. John gave the pair a frustrated look. "You two'll be lucky if I don't doc your pay. Now get back to work. Steve, I need you manning the pumps for now."

"_What_?" he asked. "You want me fillin' gas tanks?"

"Don't be pretentious, Randle. You ain't exactly senior mechanic just yet. Go clock in, get changed, and get to the pumps."

Steve grumbled something under his breath and looked at Soda, who shrugged. What the hell was John thinking? Putting Steve at the gas pumps was bad for business, damn it! He was sure the number of customers had increased since Steve had been in the garage, doing real work. Forcing him to perform something so mundane as filling gas tanks would be hurtful more to John than to himself. He shook his head and grudgingly went inside to clock in.

XXX

Steve and Soda took their lunch break around one-thirty. Walking over the general store where greasers usually went as opposed to the cafeteria, they went over the events from the night before.

"So, how was time alone with Evie, huh? Did'ja kiss her?" Soda asked as they entered the store, the little bell on the door jingling.

Steve scoffed like that was the most ridiculous thing he'd ever heard. "_Ple_ase, man, I got to second, at _least_."

Soda laughed. "She don't play games, now, do she?" They walked to the back and got a couple bags of chips and some Cokes. "How'd you manage that with her daddy in the house?"

Steve shrugged. "He went to bed early." Soda started digging money out of his pocket. "I got this," he said, shelling out a few dollar bills he'd acquired from his father. "And believe me, man, Evie is somethin' else. No kiddin'."

Grinning, Soda opened his Coke bottle and waited for Steve to get his change back. "I believe it. She is pretty good-lookin'. Ain't exactly another Marilyn Monroe, but still cute."

"Hey, watch it, man, that's my girl you're talkin' about," Steve said, almost offended.

"Oh, so she's your girl, now? Didn't realize things were gettin' so serious." He smiled again. "I'm only yankin' your chain, Stevie."

"I know it. I think she kinda looks like Jackie Kennedy, don'cha think? Real classy lookin'."

Soda laughed a little. "Yeah, yeah I can see that, some."

Removing the cap to his Coke, Steve cracked a slight grin. "What about you? How'd things go with Sweet Sandy?"

Sodapop grinned pseudo-shyly, his eyes dancing some. "Things went … nicely, if you know what I mean." They headed toward the exit, drinking their Cokes and eating their chips along the way.

"She a real wild child?"

He laughed. "Oh yeah, man. Sandy is a real—"

"Sandy's a real what?"

Steve and Soda both spun around quickly to see who'd addressed them.

"Pony, hey, what are you doing here?" Soda asked.

Ponyboy motioned to the bag in his arms. "Darry's mad about me hangin' around Buck last night so he's decided to make me help him with some Spring cleaning thing. I offered to go grab some things to get outta the house."

"Spring cleaning? What're those Social Service people s'posed to drop by soon or somethin'?"

Pony shrugged, and the three walked out of the store together. "So, what were you sayin' about Sandy?"

Steve cocked an eyebrow at Soda. "Oh, nothin' real interesting, Pony," Soda told him.

"Aw, c'mon, man, you've always let me in on your little bull sessions before," Ponyboy pried.

Soda looked at his brother pointedly. "Yeah, well … Not Sandy, dig?"

Steve watched this scene with slight amusement and interest. Ponyboy wasn't a bad kid, but he could be real nosy sometimes. Always trying to hang around people who were doing things too old for him. There's nothing more annoying than a little kid who thinks he's all grown up. He oughta be playing football with Johnny, not trying to hear about his brother's private life.

Pony let out an annoyed sigh. "All right, man." He gave Steve an odd look. "See y'all later."

When the youngest Curtis was out of earshot, Soda continued with his tale. "Anyway, man, we got back to her place …"

XXX

Back at the DX, Soda gave his Ford a break and accompanied Steve to the gas pumps.

"There been any pretty girls around today?" Soda asked.

"Eh, a few decent-lookin' ones, but nothin' special. You missed that Marion girl, though, ya know the blonde one?"

Soda looked a tad disappointed, but brightened immediately after. "Hey, we still goin' hot-rodin' tonight?"

Steve smirked as a car pulled into the station. "'Course we are. For greasers, those Brumly kids sure got a lotta dough. They think they're real tough shit, too. We'll show 'em."

Grinning, Soda removed his cap and wiped his brow. "Customer," he said, motioning to the car pulling up.

Once the car was parked, Steve leaned down to look in the window as the driver rolled it down. "Evie? What're you doin' here?"

She laughed. "What do you think? My dad wanted the tank filled, so I'm here. Three dollar's worth." She held the money out to Soda.

Steve grabbed the pump and opened the gas tank, placing the pump in the fill spout.

"I thought you were the big supreme mechanic, Steve?" she asked impishly.

Soda laughed. Steve looked at him indignantly. "We're short a couple people today, so I offered to help out over here. You want the oil checked?"

"Just the gas, thanks," she answered, eyeing him.

Steve waited for the tank to fill and removed the pump. "So, Evie," he said, leaning down to look in the window again, "you still interested in coming to the races with us tonight?"

"Sandy, too," Soda added.

"If your offer still stands."

"As I remember it, you asked to come along," he said with a cocky tone.

"Well, aren't you a gentleman," she said with a laugh. She didn't seem to mind his attitude like most did. "What time will you pick me up?"

"Time's no object, right? I'll be by a little after eight that okay?" he asked.

"I'll call Sandy when I get home and tell her." She flashed a smile. "See y'all tonight." She waved at Steve and drove off.

"You sure are attracted to some interesting gals, man," Soda said when she was out of sight.

Steve grinned. "Makes for an entertaining life."

* * *

**Oh, God, Steve filling gas tanks? Talk about cruel and unusual punishment. Well, a lot was obviously accomplished here. Heh—there'll be more action in the next chapter, I swearz. As always, comments and concrit are very much appreciated. **


	12. Chapter 12

DISCLAIMER: I do not own The Outsiders – any character you recognize from said novel is property of S.E. Hinton. I don't get paid diddly squat for writing this.

**A/N: If anyone is actually still reading this after my epic hiatus, then thank you. I have no excuses for lack of updates — it was pure mid-fic crisis, so to speak. Terribly sorry for the ridiculous wait. Again, thanks to anyone who hasn't abandoned me yet. **

* * *

Driving by the last few city lights of Tulsa, into the more rural town of Owasso, Steve began to get a bit apprehensive about taking Evie with him to the drag races. Was that really such a good idea?

"Hey, you girls really sure you wanna go with us? We tend to get pretty tied up in the races — it may not be too fun for y'all," he suggested, taking his eyes off the road for a moment to look at Evie.

"Of course it'll be fun," Evie replied. "This car racing stuff is kind of cool. I've never been to a big one before. Guys never wanna take us girls anywhere with 'em — we're too dainty or somethin'."

Soda laughed from the back and kicked Steve's seat good-naturedly. "Aw, Stevie's just worried, thinkin' about the last girl he brought out here. She hated it — never went out with him again."

Steve stifled an embarrassed sigh. That wasn't exactly his proudest moment.

"Well, I'm glad for that," Evie said, too quiet for anyone but Steve to properly hear.

Soda patted Steve's shoulder and chuckled again. "No biggie, Steve. Abigail wasn't too happy with me after that either."

"Abigail?" Sandy asked, hitting him lightly on the shoulder.

"She's a distant memory, honey."

She giggled, and they grew quiet.

Steve rolled his eyes.

"You think that Pete Montgomery guy's gonna be there?" he asked Soda. "I'm itchin' to race that kid again. Son of a …" He let himself trail off, concentrating as the roads turned more gravel than paved. He shook his head; he hated these hick towns out of the city.

"Oh, he'll be here," Soda said with a snort of laughter. "He was mighty pissed you beat him in that last one."

"Yeah, and I was mighty pissed he nearly ruined the side of my car. Man, that kid races so crooked you can't tell from his tracks if he's comin' or goin'."

Evie laughed and raised an eyebrow at him. "Plannin' on getting back at him?"

He nodded with certainty. "After I win all the money he has — without messin' up my car. I may or may not have it out with him." He flashed a grin. "Depends on his temperament."

"I'm backin' you up on that one, man. I ain't been in a good fight in too long," Soda said, leaning forward into the front seat.

Steve nodded again in appreciation of his friend's loyalty.

Sandy leaned back in her seat. "You sure that's safe, Soda?"

Raising an eyebrow in curiosity, Steve let out a short laugh. He couldn't figure Sandy out. She looked like a tough enough girl, but she was always worrying over stupid stuff.

"Now don't go worryin' about Soda," he told her. "He can hold his own in a fight better than any of them idiotic Brumly boys, especially Montgomery. Pete's about as sharp as a bag full of wet mice when it comes to brawlin' or anything else worth nothin'."

"You sure don't like that guy," Sandy noticed.

Steve shook his head — she didn't seem to understand. He really couldn't fathom how anyone could place such little importance on something like a vehicle. Particularly, _his _vehicle.

"Well, you sure wouldn't be his biggest fan if he tried to wreck _your _'58 Buick Hardtop, all souped up with a new exhaust, and the fastest engine this side of the Red River."

He exhaled roughly and tightened his grip on the steering wheel. The thought of it still pissed him off.

"But your car's not too bad looking. Sure, it needs a paint job and it's nothing like that red car, but —"

"I took care of most of it," Steve cut in. "She's fine now, it's the —"

"The principle of the thing?" Evie offered.

Steve nodded. "That's what I was gonna say."

Soda leaned back next to Sandy. "Boy howdy, I wish Two-Bit was here. He'd sure have a thing or two to say about y'all finishin' each others sentences already." He grinned his classic grin.

Steve looked at him in the rearview mirror. "Watch it, Sodapop. I'll show off my left-hook on your pretty little face if you ain't careful."

"Hey, all I said was if Two-Bit was here …." He laughed.

Steve couldn't help but laugh in return.

"Who's Two-Bit?" Sandy asked once the boys had quieted down.

"He's our buddy," Soda answered before Steve. "One of our gang."

"The damn goofy one," Steve added affectionately, though he realized afterward his tone may not have sounded too fond. "He's a cool ol' guy," he added for balance.

"You know Kathy's got a thing for him?" Evie asked with a sly smile. "But I wasn't s'posed to tell."

"Well, Two-Bit'll be happy to hear that. He swears she's been in love with him since the other day in the hall," Steve said.

"You can tell him not to be so full of himself — she just thinks he's funny," Evie countered.

Steve laughed.

"Oh, he'll be full of himself no matter what any of us say," Soda said. "I bet'cha he'll be takin' that Kathy girl out by next Friday."

"Yeah, right," Evie said. "She'll deny him at least the first ten times he asks."

Steve and Soda both laughed then, though the latter's was more boisterous.

"He'll have asked her about the thirty-second time by Tuesday," Steve said. He wasn't so upset about Montgomery anymore.

"Ain't that the truth," Soda added, still laughing.

"I'll hafta warn her, then," Evie said, not quite so amused, though not upset, either.

"Aw, don't spoil the poor guy's fun." Steve smiled cheekily.

Evie shook her head at him and looked back out the window, a smile on her face, too.

"We almost there?" Sandy asked, not enjoying being out of the loop.

Steve rolled his eyes. She got on his nerves.

XXX

When they pulled up into the old country town of Skiatook, plenty of cars were already there; people were walking around, smoking, talking, betting, fighting. Steve took in a deep breath; he loved this atmosphere. All they had to be wary of were those small-town cops.

Soda got out of the car after Steve and clapped him on the back. "Let the good times roll, man."

Evie walked over and grabbed Steve by the hand, which was a little embarrassing for about a second, but he enjoyed it all the same. She looked the slightest bit intimidated, which was different, and Steve liked reassuming his role as the most confident person he knew.

"Randle, Curtis."

Steve and Soda turned to see who had addressed them.

A pale, black-haired figure emerged from behind a cloud of cigarette smoke, obviously thinking he was tough shit.

Tim Shepard wasn't as cool as he thought he was.

"Wasn't expectin' to see you two here," Shepard said, eyeing them. He and Steve still held somewhat of a beef with each other, because of a past double car theft experience. It was really all Dally's fault, but still.

"If you were tryin' to keep this thing a secret, you shouldn't of told your stupid brother," Steve replied somewhat coldly. He looked around; there were definitely a lot of people here, probably more than Shepard wanted. Too large crowds could draw in the fuzz quicker than anything.

Soda chuckled, and put his arm around Sandy.

Tim sighed, dropping the tough guy act for now. "He's a goddamn idiot most of the time. Can't keep his mouth shut for nothin'."

Steve laughed. There was no beef anymore. For the time being, anyway.

"Dally around?" he asked, looking through the crowd. Looking for Curly rather than Dallas, Steve figured.

"He didn't come with us," Soda answered, "but if all of y'all are out here, he'll probably find his way over."

Tim nodded, and spotted his brother. "I got some business to take care of. I'll talk to y'all later." He nodded in goodbye first at Steve, then Soda, and walked off angrily.

"Why doesn't he want you here?" Evie asked. "You guys got a problem or something?"

"Nah," Soda replied for him. "Shepard don't like havin' Steve at the races he's running. Steve wins 'em all and it ends up costin' him money."

Steve nodded, a smirk on his face. Tim would never admit it, but it was true. Crowds may have been a problem, but what he really hated was having Steve for competition.

"Come on," he said dramatically, "let's go find Montgomery."

"Suspense!" Soda said, his voice painted with sarcastic humor, as he and Sandy followed Steve and Evie through the crowd.

XXX

"I ain't racin' for pinks," Pete said with a look of caution as Steve approached him.

Steve smiled, proud of his ability to intimidate. He couldn't figure out quite why, but for some reason he felt more comfortable and confident while at a drag race than he did just about anywhere else. He remembered, the one time Soda brought Ponyboy along to a big race, the kid had called him _cocky_. He shook his head at the memory; Ponyboy'd never quite understand. Pony was a real smart kid, but he seemed to act like he knew everything about everybody, Steve included. Sodapop just chalked it up to his age. It had the great potential to be annoying all the same.

"Oh, we ain't interested in that old wreck you call a car, Montgomery," he responded condescendingly.

Pete got a little offended then. "Hey, that thing you're drivin' ain't exactly a hotrod, either."

"We'll see about that after I smoke you, man." Steve pulled two five dollar bills out of his pocket — bills he'd been saving for the last couple of weeks — and Soda handed him a few dollars as well. He held the money out in front of Pete, waiting for his usual squirmy reaction.

His eyebrows puckered together slightly, but he took out three five dollar bills from his back pocket, holding them out as well.

"Well, looks like we got a race a-brewin' here, huh, boys?" David Schumacher — one of Shepard's gang — had approached them, and rested one arm nonchalantly on Pete's shoulder.

"Think so," Pete answered, shifting a little.

"Great, great," David said, swiftly grabbing the money from their outstretched hands.

He pulled a crumpled piece of paper from his back pocket and grabbed a pencil he had tucked behind his ear. He scanned the paper for a second, and then scribbled something which could not have been legible.

"All right — Randle, Montgomery, y'all'll be racin' after O'Brien and Jenner down there," he pointed to his left, "on that County Road 101. Remember, these are old country roads, fellas, so your car's gonna end up dirty, if not wrecked. This race ain't long, about a quarter of a mile. The road loops around about half way through an' brings you back over here, on the right side — that's where you'll finish. What do we got here, thirty bucks? Four buck entry fee, that leaves, what, twenty-two?"

He scribbled something else on his paper and put the money in the zipper bag he kept in his jacket with the rest of the bets.

"Now go line up; y'all's race'll be startin' soon," David finally finished, and walked off to take someone else's bet.

"Man, I don't like Shepard bein' so damn organized about all this. Fuckin' bookies? Jesus …," Pete muttered and went back to his car.

Soda laughed as Pete walked away. "Them Brumly boys ain't go no class. What's a drag race without bookies?" He grinned. "Tim is pretty serious about this stuff, huh?"

Steve shrugged. "Serious business. Come on, let's get goin."

XXX

"You still so sure you don't mind hangin' around all these greasy hoods?" Steve asked Evie as she looked around at the myriad of greasers getting ready to race.

"_Stop _bugging me about it, Steve. I can handle myself just fine." She smiled sweetly at him. "Now go race your car so Sandy and me can jump around and yell for you."

"Ya really gonna jump around?" he asked with a smirk.

She rolled her eyes. "Just _go _already!"

Steve got in the driver's seat and Evie backed up to a safer distance.

"Hey, Soda!" he yelled through the open window. "Want shotgun?"

"Hell yeah I do!" Soda responded with a pump of his fist. He looked at Sandy. "You mind?"

"Go ahead; I'll watch you with Evie."

"Thanks, babe." He rushed over and climbed into shotgun.

Steve revved the engine as Pete pulled his car up to the starting line.

"Whoo!" Soda yelled, getting pumped. "You gonna let me drive the next race?"

"If you promise not to wreck my car I might let you."

He shoved Steve into the door. "I've never wrecked in my life, man."

Laughing, Steve shoved him back. "Except that time two years ago when you ran into your neighbor's car backing out of the fuckin' garage."

Soda put on a false look of annoyance. "I was _four_teen."

He shrugged. "A wreck is a wreck, man."

"What about you? You crashed your car racin' Pete not even a year ago."

Steve's look of annoyance wasn't false. "Like _hell _I did — that bastard went and slammed his fuckin' Ford into me half way into the race — I had nothin' to do with that shit."

"A wreck is a wreck, man," he laughed.

"I'll kick your ass you don't shut your mouth, Sodapop." He punched him in the shoulder. "Swear to God, I'll —"

"Y'all ready to race?" some girl — a real whorish-looking one — yelled from in front and in between the two cars.

Both he and Pete revved their engines in response.

"Ready!" she yelled again, raising her arms in the air.

Steve tightened his grip on the steering wheel, focusing himself. All of sudden he felt higher than he ever did when he actually was high. This was the kind of stuff that made life worth living, even if it lasted only a few minutes. Racing a car was better than sex, almost. At least it happened more often.

The girl made eye contact with both of them, and Steve adjusted himself in his seat.

"Go!"

And then nothing else existed, save for the car Steve sat in and the road he was speeding down.

He vaguely heard Soda let out another whoop, and he knew he was light-years ahead of Montgomery already. He pushed the pedal to the floor, speeding up and took off around the curve.

Looking out the side view mirror, Pete wasn't even in sight.

"That Brumly boy's eatin' your dust, man!" Soda said, stamping his foot.

When the finish line came into view, Pete managed to catch up a little so he was, at the very least, on Steve's radar.

Not that it mattered much.

Doing eighty, he crossed the finish line and then some, pulling to an abrupt stop before running into a group of people watching at the end of the road.

"Goddamn, he ain't even finished yet! Look at that, he's comin' up now, still actin' like he's got a chance to win." Soda clapped Steve on the shoulder. "Way to go, man."

Steve grinned and shook Soda's hand. "Knew I'd smoke him, no question."

"Steve, move the —"

Pete Montgomery deliberately slammed into the back of Steve's car. Hard.

The feeling of ecstasy that had accompanied Steve throughout the race was soon replaced by shock, anger, and more anger.

"I'll fucking kill him. I'll fucking _kill _him."

* * *

**Ohh, dun dun dun. **

**I think I used about 893745 dashes in this chapter. **

**Again, I'm **_**so **_**sorry about how long it took me to finish this chapter. (Maybe slightly longer chapter than usual helps to make up for it?) Thanks a ton for reading! Considering I haven't been writing in a while, I might be rusty, so I'd appreciate any comments/concrit you have! **


	13. Chapter 13

DISCLAIMER: I do not own _The Outsiders_. I'm making no financial profit by writing this. (Heh, I _wish_.)

**A/N: Honestly, I've had this chapter done for months, but for reason or another I've simply neglected to post it. Sorry for the _ridiculous _wait (does a longer than usual chapter help make up for it?) – Thanks to anyone still stickin' with me!**

* * *

A long pause seemed to fill the entire area, even with a crowd present. People crowded around the two cars, waiting for something to go down. Montgomery hadn't even attempted to drive off yet.

Steve looked at Soda through narrowed eyes. Letting out a deep breath like a tea kettle letting off steam, he released the steering wheel from his vise grip. He felt his blood may literally start to boil.

"Get some good use out of that one-two of yours," he said as calmly as he could before tearing out of the car, through the crowd and straight toward Montgomery. Soda was less than a beat behind him.

"It was an accident, Randle," Pete said just as Steve reached in through the open window to grab him by the shirt. He was ready to pull him out through the window until Pete opened the door from the inside.

Pete got out of the car and wriggled himself out of Steve's grip, but was soon slammed into the side of the car instead.

"Jesus, Randle, I'm _ser_ious. It's dark and I was goin' too fast. It's not like I've got power steering on this old thing." He straightened his collar as if this explanation was enough and he'd be let go.

Soda flashed Pete his patented grin and patted him friendly-like on the shoulder. "I'll bet'cha it was an accident six months ago when you went and slammed us like you were tryin' to run us off the damn road. Too dark then, too?"

While Montgomery poised himself to respond, Steve took the opportunity to send him a swift jab to the temple. Pete slowly slid to the ground, holding a hand to his head.

The crowd soon created a tighter circle around the three of them. David Schumacher could vaguely be heard collecting bets on who would win.

Steve let out another deep breath and readied himself to hit him again. Beating the shit out of a guy he hated was a great feeling and he was almost thankful for the chance; it had been a while.

Soda knelt down next to Montgomery and slapped him lightly on the face, smiling — not mockingly, the way the Socs did, but in a genuinely excited way. Only Soda could grin while beating a kid up and not look right mean. He grabbed Montgomery by the collar, wrinkling it again, and hoisted him back to his feet.

"Fuck you, Randle," Pete said as he pushed Soda away from him. "Ya can't comprehend the word _accident_?"

Steve made to hit him again, but Pete ducked just in time. Steve quickly responded, getting instead him with a rough uppercut to the chin.

Pete was thrown back against the car again, but Steve was the one grunting in pain; he'd busted a knuckle on Montgomery's face. He stretched out his fingers and turned around for just a moment, waving his hand in the cool night air. He didn't mind it, though. A little pain every now and then was good for a person. _Builds character_, his dad always said.

Turning around again to send Pete another blow to the face, Steve instead received one to the gut, and while bent over to catch his breath, a knee to the face as well. He stumbled backward, holding his nose to stop the bleeding.

"_Fu_ck!"

"Steve?" Evie sounded upset.

Quickly standing up straight, he looked over to see Evie and Sandy standing at the front of the crowd, worried and curious looks on their faces. Fortunately, now wasn't exactly the time to run to her and tell her he was okay. He refocused his attention on Pete, who, while basking in the glory of making Steve bleed, had gotten the old one-two combo from Soda — not once, but a couple of times — and was trying his best just to keep from falling over.

Steve nodded at Soda in thanks for taking over and ran to Montgomery, slamming him into the car again. His head was bleeding more than just a little. Steve smirked; he couldn't leave a fight without drawing some blood from the other guy.

Steve hit him again, this time smack dab in the left eye, and Pete lunged at him in response. Down on the ground with Pete on top of him, Steve could do nothing but try to deflect blows to face while kicking at the dirt and while Soda his best to pull Pete off.

Finally Pete stopped and stood, panting heavily from the exertion.

Steve stood, too, though hunched over, hands resting on his knees. Taking a moment to catch his breath, he wiped as much blood as he could from his nose and watched as Pete grew distracted by the blood seeping from his temple.

Realizing the opportunity, Steve ran at Pete with the intent to throw him to the ground, but Pete took a step to the side just in time, instead shoving Steve into the car. He followed it with an attempt to punch him in the face, but barely connected as Steve pushed him away and into Soda, causing the latter to fall, hard. Steve ran at Pete, grabbing him by the shirt, and pushed him until he tripped over Soda, still on the ground.

Pete pulled Steve down with him, threw him to the side, and in the midst of the shoving match that ensued, managed to get a swift right hook in, again hitting Steve's bloody nose.

"How do you like that, huh, you goddamn motherfu —."

Pete didn't get a chance to finish his sentence, as Steve stood, lifted Pete up with him, and slammed him, again, against the car. He threw a right hook, then a left, both times connecting with Pete's face, until he dropped to the ground, looking somewhat like Dallas did after he broke Tim Shepard's nose the second time.

"You fuckin' Brumly boys all think you're tough shit," Steve said, smiling slightly as Pete quietly cursed.

Soda got into Pete's car, turned off the engine, then got back out and knelt down to hand him the keys. "Maybe you oughta think twice next time before screwin' around with my buddy's car, yeah?" He patted him on the shoulder again.

Pete looked up at Steve from where he lay on the ground, hunched over. "This ain't over, Randle. Fuckin' asshole."

Steve gave ol' Pete a swift kick in the gut.

XXX

Driving back to Tulsa with twenty-two bucks and busted bumper, hand, and nose, Steve had mixed emotions. On the one hand, his car had been fucked with again, but on the other, he'd gotten the chance to take out his aggression on the guy who did it. Did that make it even? He thought about the money it would take to fix up his Buick. It was a helluva lot more than twenty-two bucks.

Like hell they were even.

"You looked so tough out there, Soda," Sandy said, sounding like a teenybopper.

"I don't think Pete Montgomery's gonna be givin' us or your car anymore trouble, huh, Steve?" Soda said with a grin. "Kinda wish he hadn't gone down so easy."

Steve glanced at him through the rearview mirror. "Yeah, well, _I_ may be givin' Pete Montgomery some more trouble. Little punk…."

"Hey, on the bright side, I made eight dollars," Evie said with a slightly raised eyebrow and a sly smile.

Steve took his eyes off the road to look at her. "You _what_?"

"That guy, the dirty-lookin' one with the hat and the snake tattoo, was taking bets on the fight."

"You placed a bet with Schumacher?" Steve let out a laugh.

"Don't go laughin' at me," she said, waving a bill around. "Everyone was doing it. I just got my cut. You know there were actually a few people betting on Pete?"

"Idiot Brumly boys."

"As if that guy even stood a chance against you. You looked so …,"

"_Piss_ed," Sandy finished for her.

Soda couldn't help but grin and laugh at the idea. "How 'bout you, Sandy? You place any bets tonight?"

"No," she said, almost embarrassed. "I wasn't brave enough."

Soda laughed again and the couple grew quiet. Sandy wasn't so bad sometimes.

"You know, your face doesn't even look too bad," Evie observed a moment later. "I mean, once you get all that dried blood off it won't. Here," she opened her purse and pulled out a handkerchief. She pressed it to her tongue, and then reached to clean the blood off Steve's face.

He pulled away. "Hey, I don't want your old tissue touchin' my face, Evie," he said, wiping at his cheek.

She raised her eyebrows slightly, but didn't appear put-off. "Yeah, well, I don't want _my _face touchin' your bloody face, Steve. Savvy?"

Laughter came from the back seat and Steve shook his head slightly. He had to admit — he may have met his match with this chick. But she _had _alluded to their faces touching, which could only mean one thing, and there was no sense in fighting that.

He sighed. "Fine, fine. Point made."

XXX

Steve had dropped Soda and Sandy off at Soda's house — he said he'd take Sandy home himself later that night. Now the car was occupied only by Steve and Evie.

"It's really not that late out," she noticed, and he nodded, still focused on driving. "I doubt my dad would leave us alone if we went to my house, but what about yours?"

She was eager for some alone time with Steve — somehow he managed to look aloof and heated at the same time, and she wanted to dig deeper into who he was. And, she had to admit, he looked real tuff all bruised up. The idea of spending more time with such a good-looking guy was certainly appealing.

He looked at her and said, casually, "Uh, we can't go to my place. My dad'll be home soon."

"Oh," she said, disappointed. "He don't let you have girls over?"

"It's not that," he said quickly. "My old man just ain't real cool, dig?"

She did. Most of the guys she'd dated didn't have the greatest home lives. Being a greaser girl, herself, she was lucky to have the dad she did. He was a good guy.

"That's too bad," she said. "What's he do?" She supposed it was kind of a rude thing to ask, but she couldn't help but be curious. She wanted to know him more. He was interesting. And the tuff cut on his cheek sure enhanced it.

Steve gave her an odd, almost angry look, as if shocked that she asked a question no one in their neighborhood ever asked.

"He, uh …," he looked confused, like he'd never really thought about how to answer such a question. Evie guessed he never had before. "We just, ya know, we don't dig each other."

She could always tell when someone was skirting a question, and maybe she should've dropped it there, but Evie hated being left curious.

"Is he like Jimmy McIntire's father?" Jimmy was a kid everyone knew, or at least had seen around school. He came in nearly every day with a busted lip or new bruise, but no one ever said anything, teachers included.

"Jesus, please don't compare me to goddamn Jimmy _McIntire_." He stared out at the road. "Me and my old man just haven't dug each other for a long time. I lay over at Soda's house a lot of the time. We fight and he kicks me out, ya know. But it don't really matter — he ends up shelling out five bucks or so the next day."

"Oh," she said again, looking out the window, thinking. That couldn't be too bad, she figured. Jimmy sure wouldn't think so.

"I'm kinda like a Soc, huh?"

"What?" Her head snapped up and she looked at Steve, confused.

"Wave a few bucks at me and I come crawling back," he said with contempt.

"Oh, spare me. That hardly makes you a Soc," she said as Steve pulled up to her house and parked. "He is your _dad_."

He looked at her, and didn't appear neither angry nor stoic anymore. But now she couldn't figure out just _what_ he looked like. "Yeah."

She looked into his eyes and suddenly felt a little nervous. "So, I guess this is my house."

"Do you want me to walk you to the door?"

"Do you want to?"

He got out of the car, walked around, and opened her door for her. She got out, and they walked across the yard and up to the front porch together.

They stood silently under the faint porch light for a maybe a moment before Steve asked, "Do you wanna go out tomorrow? To eat? There's this joint on East 5th that ain't real rough. Greasers hardly hang out there. You'd probably like to spend some time away from all those hoods after tonight —,"

She laughed and stopped him mid-sentence. "Sure, Steve, I'd love to." She took a step closer to him so that they were just a few inches apart.

"We could hang out on Cherry Street if you wanted," he said, moving closer to her, too.

"I'm up for anything," she said, and they kissed — not like they had the last time, not a shy kiss, but a real one and she liked the feeling of his chapped lips against her soft ones more than she ever did when kissing other boys.

"I'll call you," he said when they pulled away, and walked slowly back toward his car.

"See you tomorrow," she breathed, hoping to God her father hadn't been spying on them from the other side of the door.

* * *

**A/N: So … Hope it's not entirely obvious that I **_**suck**_** at writing fight scenes. If it's too long or too short or just plain bad, let me know! Actually, I'm rather insecure about this chapter as a whole, so any suggestions for improvement anywhere in the chapter are appreciated. :)**


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